From the Heart

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time at Joe's house.
His mom would let him do anything he asked, it seemed to me.
I always thought, on those times I thought, it must be nice I thought.
He cooked us eggs on an electric stove and spread the mayo with a knife.
He made Koolaid all by himself and measured sugar with a cup.
I was impressed, his mom was nice. She called me pal and chief.
But I could wash and iron the clothes and carry a five-gallon bucket of water to the cows.

This is a little raw clay of my life. I got it out to work on it a little bit.
We'll see what happens.
It took me so long to figure out my password, that I ran out of day.
Gotta go. Peace.