Brentwood now has come to be
The one and only home for me.
Out here since before ninety two.
I’m selling poems to see me through.
The reason I’m the way I am
Goes back to war in Viet Nam.
The scenes of dead,
bomb shredded men
Scream through my mind
now and again.
I find relief in poetry.
The rhyming words, the symmetry
Replaces fear with harmony
Recording things I daily see.
To me Brentwood’s a special place,
A showcase of the human race
Exhibiting the lighter side
Of folks without a thing to hide.
It’s satisfying just to live
Where normal is to get and give
Without much undue emphasis
On either way, what’s mine or his.
And Brentwood climate is so great,
The world should try to imitate.
Fresh moving breezes from the sea
Cool daily hours so pleasantly
Added to this I find that I,
“Though somewhat in the public eye,
Have been accepted, more or less,
To make my life a fair success.
I hope the Brentwood neighborhood
Will flourish and remain as good
Or better than it is right now,
But I confess I don’t see how.
Couldn’t be better.
© WENDELL BROWN 2011
