Ode to John

When I was just a kid, I lived at number 253,
and never realised just who lived right next door to me.
My bedroom wall was his wall too,
our windows faced the back.
The outlook that we both looked on
dictated our life’s track.
When I looked out I saw the grass, my fathers joy and pride,
but I thought grass was always greener on the other side.
So spent a life just searching for the key to make things fit,
but never found the answers and became a hypocrite.
But  he looked out that window and found an inner passion
That later gave him inspiration to write the song ‘Imagine’
I don’t remember if he sang alone whilst in his room,
or strummed his fender quietly whilst whistling a tune.
His wit renowned, his writing too, but most of all his songs
spoke to an age to try to change and rectify the wrongs.
He was no saint, he was a man who thought so lyrically,
and never knew he lived next door to me at 253