We always go out driving... that's what we love to do.
We'll all pile in and go, the kids and me and you.
We look at fancy houses and dream of ''One day we'll...''
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Mary...must be an American passtime. Here in Germany we never drive around looking at houses, but when we lived in Oregon we did it every weekend. I like the good solid images, and the rhymes are not strained, they seem natural. Good poem. It kept moving forward and I kept wanting to go along; I didn't have to struggle or force myself.
A fun poem, I was really digging the black birds and the cows.
Frivolity becomes you Mary; just as well as tragedy and pain