Kathy's Songs
Kathy’s Songs
It’s six years after forever,
Day-clipped weeks,
Years stacked neatly together
Season by season,
Like outdated library books
No one sees,
Unthumbed,
Unturned,
Unread.
And you gave more
Kathy,
Much more than the
Pages and pages of
Worn out words
I have strung together,
Grasping at phantoms
In the air,
You gave more.
I gave what I could,
But it was
never quite enough,
never enough,
trying to catch a song
by its breath.
No one could sing
Your sonatas.
No one could laugh
The colors you spoke.
No, it was never
Quite enough.
So I turned out my dreams,
Burning your songs,
Lighting torches,
Mad
With burning.
Writing checks on sorrows
I would have to pay.
I turned out my dreams;
Burning,
Burning,
Kathy’s songs are
Burning.
And I have paid
Kathy,
I have paid.
But songs never really
Die.
Their sighs
Lurk in shadows like
Stalking panthers
Waiting for
Wide-eyed nights.
And there are
places
where your songs
have turned
to hymns,
and words whose sounds
will always ring
like hushed echoes
of your name.
|