Kathy's Songs

Kathy’s Songs It’s six years after forever, Day-clipped weeks, Years stacked neatly together Season by season, Like outdated library books No one sees, Unthumbed, Unturned, Unread. And you gave more Kathy, Much more than the Pages and pages of Worn out words I have strung together, Grasping at phantoms In the air, You gave more. I gave what I could, But it was never quite enough, never enough, trying to catch a song by its breath. No one could sing Your sonatas. No one could laugh The colors you spoke. No, it was never Quite enough. So I turned out my dreams, Burning your songs, Lighting torches, Mad With burning. Writing checks on sorrows I would have to pay. I turned out my dreams; Burning, Burning, Kathy’s songs are Burning. And I have paid Kathy, I have paid. But songs never really Die. Their sighs Lurk in shadows like Stalking panthers Waiting for Wide-eyed nights. And there are places where your songs have turned to hymns, and words whose sounds will always ring like hushed echoes of your name.