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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=527858" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Let It Be.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=527858" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She always had that, Let It Be, album <br>On the turntable, with him, the latest uncle, <br>Sitting beside her on the couch or in her bed, <br>Smoking, making out, and you were told to go <br>Outside and play and leave her be, and so <br>You’d go out and play or find some mischief <br>To do with Hawksmith, who always seemed <br>To know how you felt, what made you tick, <br>And he’d say, let’s go up to Grundle’s barn, <br>Let’s go make out in the hay, and he’d laugh, <br>And so you’d go to the barn or down by Mullen’s <br>Pond and watch him fish. She always played <br>That darn Let It Be album when she was high, <br>Had it up loud, the music blaring out over <br>The yard, and she and him, laughing and cursing, <br>And when you used to creep back to the house <br>Late at night the lights were on and you’d hear <br>The Beatles’ album going round and round on <br>The turntable without reason or any sound.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Terry+Collett">Terry Collett</a></strong></div>

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