Harvard Square

A day in Harvard Square in the seventies,
Hippies, artists, writers, students, vagabonds.
Protesters always protesting something.
Minstrels always singing on sidewalks.
Pretty women, often in colorful dresses;
Men with long hair, often with beards.
Other varieties of people to see,
Some stoned, high on whatever.
Some there just for shopping or dining.
Have Krishnas chanting and dancing.
Festive and free youthful atmosphere,
Maybe some love flowering in the air.
People pouring out of the subway,
Scaling the stairs to the square.
Serious professors and students
Hastening back to classes.
Harvard Yard, incomparable.

Bob Boyd

Misty

The murky depths of her life
Obscured and confused
Mistakes and consequences
Hard knocks, endless pain
Bad times, wrong people
Drunkenness, drugs
Mania and misery
Fears, many tears
Wasted years
Nothing went right
Overdosed one
Sad night

Bob Boyd

Destiny

She said she believed I was her destiny.
It seemed true. She seemed committed.
A destiny on two continents
And across a vast ocean
On a turbulent plane ride.
But Destiny had different ideas
When It changed her mind,
And she sought a man with more stuff.
I should have known Destiny
Is often a fickle fellow.

Bob Boyd

Trains

Trains keep clattering by on unseen rails
Rushing perpetually to who knows where
Perhaps some town or city unknown to me
Perhaps a place I’d rather be
One day I’ll be on one of those trains
Riding to eternity

Bob Boyd