Guide me along the notes melancholy,
String me within their somber frets,
Assure that I entangle in the web
Of words written over several
Slow, sad evenings,
With rain's faint hum against the house,
And blanketing, billowing quilts of
Gray, endless clouds stretching to
Every horizon.
Show me into your heart,
Into the pain and disappointment
That made you start writing this song.
I know how to unmute the colors
On your friend's faces.
I know how to wake up with vigor,
How to complete tasks as they arise.
Indeed, many know how to cope
With losing someone:
You don't.
The years scab over our hearts,
They wrinkle our hands
And cloud our thoughts.
Alone we turn to stone,
As the years come and go, one by one.
By: Forrest Jorgensen ©