song

A Naive Little Song I Sort of Sung to Myself on the Train

I loved a girl on the beach in Spain
only we both didn’t know it then
destiny would see to it
was just a matter of when
she had no cares in eighty eight
or whenever it may have been
and nor did I wherever I was
that changed when I had seen
the woman she grew into
before I even knew her name
and from the moment I held her
something inside me changed.

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a few lines for a possible folk song.

throw a quarter in my tambourine
and I will sing for you
put a dollar in my notebook
and I’ll write a song or two
cause my heart is hungry
and not just for your smile
I gotta keep my soul together
for the next five hundred miles

Songs of Home and Heartache : part one

steel guitaring echoes
of sadness and defeat
when Patsy gave me sweet dreams
in the heart of lonely street
and the needle always caught her
at the start of cigarettes
no matter how I’d set it right
I never can forget
just how those days are beaten in
and make of that boy the man
I tried to fall far from the tree
to find out who I am
…but…
all these countless heartaches later
when I’m thinking that I’m fine
I realise like old boy Merle
I’m still drinking yesterday’s wine.

Blue Silver Midnight (a rather awful earnest song I never completed thirty five years ago)

new romantic ghosts in two tone silk
tailored words stitched by gilded hands
and in their eyes expectant lovers
see themselves reflected…
…and stand…

to sing blue silver midnights
to the white gold morning sun
when both empty hearts awaken
as if they’d sang as one

and as the neon streetsigns flicker
to drown in the winter daylight rain
one hit wondered one time lovers
see themselves rejected…
…to refrain…

to sing blue silver midnights
to the white gold morning sun
when both empty hearts awaken
as if they’d sang as one

In my dream

In my dream
we found the lake at sunset
the light like stained glass
behind the whispering trees

in my dream
the shining water’s ripples
refracted upon your skin
and imagination seized

in my dream
the world hummed a bossanova
each note would wet my lips
with the song of our kiss

in my dream
the dance we danced consumed
and with every passioned step
heartbeat’s almost missed

in my dream
we became one after dark
the fresh spring night
our blanket sheets

in my dream
you dreamed me too
so we’d wake to morning’s touch
and make both dreams complete.