Over

There was that night
An only slightly dimmed light

There was that song I sang to you –I believe you sang back– about being crazy ‘ bout you
An ode I’m inclined to replay over and over and over in my mind, in hopes that I’d grow tired

There was that us celebrating love
An honest Thanksgiving

Just Sunshine

I am told of a song worth singing

That the curveball I ought throw life, in perfect pitch, sounds something like this:

“I’m gonna love you like no one has hurt me
I’ve known just sunshine
Wild imagination, deeply invested
Forever, we’re fine”

This, the lore, these sage storytellers I keep company with implore I believe that

A song I must sing, I am told

Original Thought Credit: “Come Rain or Come Shine;” Music and lyrics by Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer, respectively.

Magician’s Scarf

Who each woman is

Does she smell like lavender fields

More worthy of obsession with each passing Day

Why the fabric of her dress upon her skin causes men to sing?

The Earth springs forth, as I imagine, musical notes with her every step. Yes.

Such passion must she follow, as to leave us inspired

Her smile draws from an endless-deep joy well

Words from her soul have him come hither, a pulling of magician’s scarf

Unaccompanied

A duet I attempted
Unaccompanied, unbeknownst
Stalled, partway through
For, I looked around to see
At last, see
You
Eyes askew
Singing some other song
Or, perhaps no song at all

A duet I attempted
I still hear, distantly
Voices of us
Together at the keyboard
Fallen on deaf ears, eternally
You
Struck a chord with me
Yet, I admit, it may be
An ensemble I forced, forgive me

Unfounded

For the first time since the first time, I was presumptive
Those crickets!
Their song for me
Our mutual love of warm summer nights … and the reedy mid-day marsh….

For the second time since the first time, I learned
They were just crickets … being crickets
They chirp, they do not sing
They survive, they do not love