GROW UP By Tom Jensen
My best friend
Has stopped returning my calls
Won’t respond to any emails
Now he’s just plain busting my balls
So I decided to write him a poem
Maybe it’ll be a song the tube
It’s called “come on….grow up…
And quit being a boob”
For I hate all of this…
This soap opera affair
We’ve become too close
To let all this disappear
Friends often disagree
Have arguments and debate
I’ve still yet to hear from you…
And so…I wait…
Childish games were fun
When I was three feet tall
I’ve got my phone right here
Please give me a call
For over these years
I’ve tried to act like a man
And sort out all the things
That I just don’t understand
I tried to patch things up
Yet it didn’t work like I planned
The phone…pick it up!
Before things get out of hand
There is no ultimatum
No time tables or threats
Only great memories
That I’ll never forget
And I’d like to make more
If that’s alright with you
So pick up your phone
And I’ll talk to you soon….