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Joni.
August 23, 2014
This old man,
He was just like me,
Playing in broken and successful bands,
I grinned when I first laid eyes on him,
Saying if he had come on over,
Maybe I could take care of him.
Been aching for his elusive light,
Captured only within,
Flames licked at logs in a fireplace,
Scarves draped over lampshades,
I played him all of my songs
So that maybe he would sing along,
I didn't know how late it grew,
But my eyes never stopped looking for you.
You might have gone and sat up all night,
Watching to see who in the world I might be,
Oh, a tamed fighter wooing a scepter and a crown,
Made me weak in the knees.
Well you can close your eyes, baby,
And maybe I'll close mine,
I can sing your love songs,
But I won't sing my blues
Until you're gone.
For when you hold sand too tightly,
It runs through your fingers,
I let my baby slip right out from my reach,
And there he went where the wind blows deep into my lungs,
I held him in forever and sung:
Painting my joys,
Playing my sorrows,
Leave me alone here to create.
My fingers ache to mold you,
To pour you from my dark cafe days.
My sunflowers
My stubborn ways
My rusty chords
In deafening haste
Sketching an outline of your delicate face,
I pretended to keep you safe.
© Tanner H., Kaysville, UT
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