The Love Song
The Love Song
A song we both liked once
grinds-on,
a needle on a disc
etching deep grooves
into a mutual experience.
The cat we once shared, died.
Our dog chased the cat
in its leg-twitching dreams
until its old heart gave out.
The cherry tree toppled in a storm,
when we cut its broken limbs down
blossoms fell like coral rain.
The garden we both tended to
was never the same.
That song we loved
is hardly ever sung nowadays
its tune un-played,
insensitive modulations
have twisted it into a jingle
only heard in elevators.
I have kept
the scratchy vinyl recording,
its lyrics now seem trite,
besides, we no longer believe
in such timeless melodies.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2025
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