Saturday, September 10, 2011


She's the single reason for the blue note,
the naked ink brush black line gesture wash,
the only sonnet Shakespeare never wrote
of love's eternal eventual loss.

We heard the f-holed guitar cry baby,
saw the figure in that damn drawing dance,
mesmerized by a magical maybe
with a gambler's once in a lifetime chance. 

Listen to the plaintiff sad song lament,
quietly portrayed with tender beauty,
unembellished on love's bare instrument:
a small forgotten folk tune's melody.

As  I awake from the spell I am under,
I will miss what I cannot remember.

Ben Gage

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