ONE SONG

 

 

ONE SONG

 

Sing me a love song.

Rhyme me a sad tale.

The woe of heartbroken lovers

whose tinny cries take to the air.

The needle rides the grooves.

Round in a circle, it goes.

No beginning or end.

Like a tear that refuses to fall.

A song without an end.

The melody echoes through eternity.

One jump and scratch at a time.

ONE SONG

 

 

ONE SONG

 

Sing me a love song.

Rhyme me a sad tale.

The woe of heartbroken lovers

whose tinny cries take to the air.

The needle rides the grooves.

Round in a circle, it goes.

No beginning or end.

Like a tear that refuses to fall.

A song without an end.

The melody echoes through eternity.

One jump and scratch at a time.

PLAY ME A SONG

“Self Portrait with a Harp” (1791) (detail) by Rose-Adélaïde Ducreux (1761-1802).

 

Play me a song.

Don’t get me wrong.

 

I love your singing voice,

But the harp is my choice.

 

The music soothes my sad soul

From the day taking its toll.

 

I need the music today.

Please sit down with me and play.

WRITE ME A MELODY

piano

Sing me a song.

Write me a melody

Of times gone by

And moments lost in time.

Stroke the keys.

Massage the ivories.

Raise your voice high

Until I hear your words.

Words of hope and loss.

Sing them loud and clear.

Stories of faraway​ places

And times that are long gone.

I close my eyes.

I can still hear your words.

I can see your fingers

Stroking the black and white.

Your words have taken flight.

They reverberate through time.

They have left your lips

To land on mine.

A sweet melody

To soothe my advancing years.

A pretty song

​To wipe away my empty tears.

THE PERFECT MELODY

Perfect Melody

draevendelunaSource:

The air feels thick,

Laden with moisture.

Clouds roll in.

The sky grows darker,​

Then you hear the first drops.

The water pounding on the roof

in a staccato melody of its own.

Pound, pound, pound.

Tap, tap, tap.

The rain washes our streets

and clears our minds.

Preparing us for a new day.

THE PERFECT MELODY

The air feels heavy.
Laden with moisture.
Clouds roll in.
The sky grows darker.
Then you hear the first drops.
The water pounding on the roof
in a staccato melody of its own.
Pound, pound, pound.
Tap, tap, tap.
The rain washes our streets
and clears our minds.
Preparing us for a new day.