i am writing you
a love song
it might take
a while
i cannot sing
or play an instrument
and the rhymes
won’t reconcile
i know there is
an art to this
but it threatens
to become a trade
writing you
a love song
that does not end
or fade
In which a long-time record collector and sometimes poet shares shares vinyl finds, words of worth, and plays keep or cull.
There’s not much that makes me smile just now, but your poems always make me forget that.
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