Musings and Prose of Greg Gough

An opportunity to experience my world

I remember you…

Posted by ggough56 on April 18, 2009

We spent the summer with the top rolled down.
Wished ever after would be like this.
You said, “I love you babe”, without a sound.
I said, “I’d give my life for just one kiss,
live for your smile and die for your kiss”

I am quite honestly, most passionately in love.
I thought about what to write for awhile.
I had to think long and hard for my audience.
It’s a quick witty audience.
An audience given to a good wine.

I did write a song and it was beautiful.
Quite honestly, among my best pieces.
I could try to be frugal with my words, but I don’t do that well.
I always relied on the wisdom of others for those tidbits.
Quite honestly, I’m so glad I met you and I adore you.

She might cast a glace toward me, but she’ll never see.
She may never know how much in love I am in.
He is unwittingly charming, always telling me what is fun a fabulous.
Her love has me tangled up in her arms.
How much I owe to her, how much I owe.

I’m listening to a piece I wrote about a friend that has passed away.
She was a wonderful friend and it’s been sad to not have her around.
I also attend a wedding tomorrow, I’m happy for the day.
Quite honestly I don’t dig lightly into the soil beneath.
The bridge may not be crossable if I do.

Only doors away did you dwell, your saddenned sould quenching life.
Only further removed did you become, only further apart driven your heart.
She is only lingering now.
She is only alone.
She won’t ever become what she was.

Sometimes I wonder just where I’ll be
a day or a year from this time….

Perhaps in Australia, or another place.
Certainly with no job or sense of dignity.
Dear me, I will get around though, I will get around.
I always have gotten around.
I got around when you didn’t know….

Mark and Martha.
Jane and Jack.
It’s not really free, but it doesn’t cost me much.
Especially when you find a minor after something diminished.
It’s quite quaint, our little home.

What I do know is that I might not come around to slap you….
…but, I do know, that someone will come around to slap you.

I won’t know who, I won’t know why.
I’ll feel sorry for you, well, not sorry.
I’ll feel hurt for you, I will probably feel the hurt.

Alone in my cottage that is my life, out in the woods, among the solace.
…possibly with my lover…

…we will understand what has happened.
…we will understand what you have chosen.
…we will understand what we cannot bear to watch.
…we will understand as the piano fades….

I wish you well, but I am leaving.


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