For Me, Alone

There is a song that I can hear

the words have faded, not as clear

as in my youth, yet there’s a truth,

    and I am listening.

 

I remember when we called it ours

our stories written in each line

as I awaken with the dawn

they disappear, until they're gone

 

An empty heart looks for release

inside the memories it cleaves

as it searches for reprive,  

without goodbye, without reply

 

A writer cannot write a song

nor can they fill an empty page

unless they’ve walked the broken path 

where nothing’s left, and nothing lasts

 

I float inside this empty space

in no specific time or place

and I'm still searching for the song

the tune that's meant for me, alone

     and I am listening

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023