deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Song For You
With your permission, I’d
Like to sing you a song
The pitch of ocean waves
Or crows waxing nostalgic,
Nestled on the breast of
A lost beatnik's headstone.
One whom I speak through now,
Or, whom I speak from.
One who wonders about
Forever, or the evening,
A cigarette with you.
With your permission, if
I may, might I be wrong?
The brush of blonde against
My map and through nervous hands.
Hopeful a memory
Like that is molasses.
And should it be just that,
Even just the smoke,
I’d be happier buzzed
Than left to imagine
Your tar in my lungs.
So, with your permission,
If I may, might I...
Like to sing you a song
The pitch of ocean waves
Or crows waxing nostalgic,
Nestled on the breast of
A lost beatnik's headstone.
One whom I speak through now,
Or, whom I speak from.
One who wonders about
Forever, or the evening,
A cigarette with you.
With your permission, if
I may, might I be wrong?
The brush of blonde against
My map and through nervous hands.
Hopeful a memory
Like that is molasses.
And should it be just that,
Even just the smoke,
I’d be happier buzzed
Than left to imagine
Your tar in my lungs.
So, with your permission,
If I may, might I...
Published 30th Nov 2020
Author's Note
Based on a true story
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
30th Nov 2020 1:43am
Truly, truly enjoying your pieces here Jacob. You possess such a delicate stroke, capped in unusual nuance.. a gorgeous blend really.
30th Nov 2020 1:50am
