When I write a song. The words come tumbling down.

Goth. Photograph by Gray Summers.

Quite a while back now, when visiting my Flickr site, I found this shot I took of my daughter when in Gothic teen years. Started thinking of a song to write about a Gothic girl getting off the bus in her new found University town? And what would happen if………..

 

When writing a song you let the words tumble out. I do have chords and tune to some of these words below now. The full story here (cut and pasted from my Microsoft Word file for song ideas) doesn’t fit the rhythmic D to F#m to Em to A . It is strangely a catchy little tune. That little whistle bit at the start I find is a constant in my happy times. The words are tumble jumbled here. But I haven’t tailored it at all.

 

So, not a poem. Or It’s so not a poem. Nor a song done and dusted. I suppose it’s a made up a-rhythmic story. Sorry. The medical ‘a’ meaning ‘without’ pops in all my ‘without’ considerations. Thinking of this intentional song as a cardiac Arrhythmia equivalent. Strange beat to a solid tune.

 

Here you go……..

 

Strolling around my local town

One Sunday afternoon

In scarf and jacket and jeans

Whistling a tune.

It went

🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬

It was then that I spotted

A girl with a tattooed moon.

On the back of her hand.

 

Much to my surprise

This girl in Gothic black

Had lips and eyes

That matched my own.

She was walking

And smiling and

Talking  

On her phone.

And she says

‘Hi Mom.

I’ve arrived

And it feels like home’.

She said ‘I’m fine Mom.

I know I’m gonna love

This town’.

 

I looked into her eyes

And she looked back into mine

And then a spark

Of recognition

Seemed to fly.

She said

‘I know you.

I’ve seen your face

A million times’.

I said

‘I don’t think so.

Never seen you before

In my life’.

 

She dived into her bag

And brought out

A photograph

Of me when I had just turned

Seventeen.

It was that old black and white

Now faded

And torn at the seams.

And there,

At my side

Was the girl

Of my dreams.

 

I remembered then

A time

From distant

Way back when

I met a girl and

It was love

At first sight.

And there she was

Smiling with me

Smiling at me

In that old

Torn and Faded

Black and White.

 

I remembered then

Those Stars

Above the dunes.

The Beatles tunes.

And I remembered then

Those Lazy, Crazy, Hazy

Summer afternoons.

I remembered then

A girl

Who created a World

That left me in a whirl

Who went one afternoon

And got

A tattooed moon

On the back of her hand.

 

I remember now

A morning

Feeling

In complete

Despair.

No letter left

Explaining why

She was no longer

There.

She’d upped and left

My life.

Simply ran away.

Struggled to believe.

Why she didn’t stay.

 

And now

That dream returns

With a

Similar tune.

This girl.

With the same design

Of that tattooed moon

Stood before my eyes.

On a Sunday afternoon.

Eyes and lips

The same as mine,

A face with energy that

Dispels the gloom.

Smiling, sweet forlorn

She said ‘I think I understand’

Then she presents

And shows me

The back of her hand.

 

She said

‘Mom never told me,

Why she upped

And ran away.

Never explained

Why she didn’t

Want to stay

With you.

But I knew, really, truly knew,

That definitely one day.

You, Glorious you.

Would show up

Out of the blue.

 

 

 

%d bloggers like this: