Mar 2015
one more (sweet love poem) for the road*
t'is indeed
difficult to gather up
the memories,
asking not which
but
how,
in what type of
storage container,
clear, see-through-me plastic or a
steel lock box with a preordained
one last
goodbye
kissing,
semi-purposely soon to be another
******,
missing
key
will they be made, kept,
though themselves,
disordered, unkempt,
yet
safe for future travel...
but unsafe for reopening,
lest those
aged sugar dusted
New Orleans beignet crumbs
you broke in two,
one for me and one for,
yet break for me
during the packing up
as all smiles
in a half remembered
half sad song
once again,
upon cursory examination
at a new person's
starting over
heart place,
I smile
sadly
at torn concert ticket stubs,
and emptied ring boxes,
brown-edged wilted flowers
that fell out from in between
books of poetry,
purchased, but never opened
my soul brother
Nat King Cole
sings me to that
smiling place,
and yet I am shocked to learn
that he is not the author of said words
no,
that song,
that now
last / elastic brittle / bittersweet memory song,
written by the the unbreakable,
the bendable
Charlie Chaplin
and I put that last whimsy smile
in the clear plastic container,
discontented contents
visible, even if that box
is never reopened
t'is indeed
difficult to gather up
the memories,
asking not which
but
how,
in what type of
storage container,
clear, see-through-me plastic or a
steel lock box with a preordained
one last
goodbye
kissing,
semi-purposely soon to be another
******,
missing
key
will they be made, kept,
though themselves,
disordered, unkempt,
yet
safe for future travel...
but unsafe for reopening,
lest those
aged sugar dusted
New Orleans beignet crumbs
you broke in two,
one for me and one for,
yet break for me
during the packing up
as all smiles
in a half remembered
half sad song
once again,
upon cursory examination
at a new person's
starting over
heart place,
I smile
sadly
at torn concert ticket stubs,
and emptied ring boxes,
brown-edged wilted flowers
that fell out from in between
books of poetry,
purchased, but never opened
my soul brother
Nat King Cole
sings me to that
smiling place,
and yet I am shocked to learn
that he is not the author of said words
no,
that song,
that now
last / elastic brittle / bittersweet memory song,
written by the the unbreakable,
the bendable
Charlie Chaplin
and I put that last whimsy smile
in the clear plastic container,
discontented contents
visible, even if that box
is never reopened
Smile
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TvUYSFRIto
Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you
Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile
sung by Nat King Cole
composed by Charlie Chaplin
(composed 4:08 am
Miami, Fla.
Sunday
March 22, 2015
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TvUYSFRIto
Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you
Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile
sung by Nat King Cole
composed by Charlie Chaplin
(composed 4:08 am
Miami, Fla.
Sunday
March 22, 2015
