Beads, Booze, Revelry.
Inhibitions set free, only for one day.
Hurricanes flowing from Pat O’Brien’s
Jazz floats onto the street from Preservation Hall.
Party now, repent later,
or not.
No one to judge you.
Bourbon Street is your stage;
Blend into the crowd or
Stand above the rest.
Catch a float or catch the trolley.
Follow your senses, leave your mind behind.
Because tomorrow, tomorrow you must return
to a place of rules, regulations.
Don’t miss the chance to paint your master piece in the vivd colors of
Green, Gold and Purple.
Great poem! It makes me want to go to New Orleans 🙂
Me too 🙂
Would love to go to Mardi Gras! It’s cold here. Would love to vacation ALONE
I’ve always wanted to go to Mardi Gras! Maybe one day…
Me too! The dream is alive.
A favorite.
mind blown. Your poetry strikes my chords.
Love it…made me homesick. But we don’t call them trolleys…they are streetcars…:)