Were we music?
There seemed to have been a song there,
Writ in B7,
“Nobody Knows The Trouble I’ve Seen”
“Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay”
Now that I’ve “Walk(ed) Away” I am “Down In The Valley,”
Though “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine”.
My hands ache trying to play this chord,
Some similarity to my heart,
Keeping my fingers busy
To try and impart them with new work
Now that they no longer play you.
You’ve moved on to some other song,
Solo, perhaps, but you still take duets,
And maybe they don’t sound as sweet
As B7, but you never considered not strumming a while,
To bask in ” The Sound of Silence ” that cuts through now
A continent away,
Incontent with the way music sounds as I strum,
Learning an instrument you promised you’d teach me,
Which you never did,
Another of your promises broken,
But I’m learning all the same