Friday, April 4, 2008

All At Sea

Yesterday I got hit with what I've come to call a rogue JPJ wave. Just like a rogue wave out at sea, it comes from nowhere and tries to capsize me. I was in the middle of crunching numbers and shuffling papers, not even thinking about the man, and suddenly John's face was right before me; his deep espresso brown eyes and devil-may-care-grin playing in technicolor on my internal movie screen. So, I zipped out of the office, went outside and sat at "my table" beneath the pines, and let the tears fall until I got the boat righted again and both oars back in the water.

I miss the man. I miss our silly banter, that deep baritone "Darlin'," and the smell of the back of his neck. So, when I went walking after work - it was such a gorgeous day - I marched to my own tune, and had composed the following song in my head by the time I got home. All I had to do was sit down and play it.

Gypsy Blues

Walkin’ the city tonight
I listen to the beat of the dust
As it plays on my shoes
Passed by the old neighborhood
All of the old friends, old places,
And the memories I can’t lose
I don’t want to live in the past
But all the same
I can’t seem to forget about you
It’s been a long, long while
In takin’ old wounds to heal
What else was I supposed to do?

Time goes by so fast
You can hardly tell
A day can seem like forever though
When you’re walkin’ through hell
This gypsy girl’s got too many stories to tell
About the good ol’ days
That flew away with the years
Yeah, those good ol’ days,
They flew away with the years

Somewhere inside of me
Is a small part that dies
If I start to think of the lovin’ and you
I’d like another cup of coffee
Another midnight conversation
Another rainy afternoon
Gone before we even had a chance
Disappeared in the middle of the dance
You left too soon
Walkin’ the city tonight
I listen to the beat of the memories
I just can’t lose

Time goes by so fast
You can hardly tell
A day can seem like forever though
When you’re walkin’ through hell
This gypsy girl’s got too many stories to tell
About the good ol’ days
That flew away with the years
Yeah, those good ol’ days,
They flew away with the years

© Barbara A. Black - 2008

6 comments:

  1. I am such a mush pot...I love your music and I look forward to the next concert..:) Many tears, though also leaves a smile on my face. Handsome as ever, my brother.

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  2. You're not a mush pot... you just miss your big bro.

    I like this pic of him. He took it himself and emailed it to me 4 years ago, subject line: We Are Not a Morning People...

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  3. What can I say? absolutely gut wrenching words. fantastic.. every day now i think of him as , cant believe, a year is coming. hugs every day to you. mush pot. emotional marshmallow is what i always call myself.. puff the magic dragon.. hmmmm it will be a toast with raki.
    lv vic

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  4. Funny that something random on the radio today about "fat" Tuesday and I wanted to cry a little but erm bit difficult as I was driving the works van at the time thankfully didn't drive too irratically..
    As he used to make pancakes that were nice and tasty, he'd be asked to make 'em for fund raisers and the like but alas no more and no I don't know the recipe as it was never written it was in his head.

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  5. snicker snicker, b!! 'We are not a morning people'...sister like brother. I came across his ardvark pic....such humor that boy. He got a huge giggle out of me!!
    Yes, I can not inhale that a year is coming up. HI Vicki :)

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  6. One year one day it's all the same, my brother is with me everywhere I go... Thanks for flipping my boat!

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