Sunday morning came early
A new day to wash the tears away
I travel down pathways in my memory
Searching for song lyrics long lost
The lilt of my song haunts me
But my damaged brain keeps holding out
These old purged words that are lost to me now
Ghosts of the past in my today
I remember the times when I wrote them
Black bird flies away
To a door on the far side of the sky
Woe to you who don't take a serious view
To the art of your words today
Because tomorrow they could be gone
And believe me when I tell you
You will ache for their loss
Thoughts flit in and out as I write
My brain is a sponge that is drying
The moisture my thoughts, my words my poems, my songs
Drying out
This final repetition of a faded glory.
Falls flat as I rest my boots
While little birds and blackbirds
Both fly away and when they go
They take your heart and soul with them
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