For Writers in the Mist and Dreamers in the Dance
Where did you go? Why wasn’t the music enough for you?
Like so many, to many musicians in the 50’s all lost in a sea of heroin
adrift in dissonance, loaded and stoned by the denial of your own light Beauty Bashed and Broken life
banal and though somehow you survive inbetween the vinyl grooves and romantics like me
and now that I find your left over dreams, I wonder just what does this that mean?
Are you just a note away from coming back and doing it right this time?
maybe I’m old fashioned, maybe you married an angel and ain’t coming back
But the moonlight over Vermont lights your way, the autumn leaves rustle, waiting in new sheet music then
just around daybreak I see you coming with the wind, you belong to me, my funny valentine.
There is that long ago and faraway feeling of you younger than springtime once again.
Through the clouds, over the rainbow , your soul, time after time, to finally be all that you are.
I’ll be waiting, when you come back with that silver lining.
Love, your little girl blue
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