Got my hardback novel ‘neath this old oak tree.
A sunflower springs up behind me,
feeling groovy.
So I sing to myself
over and over.
Groovy, recapturing youth.
Groovy, slowing down in the midst of great change.
Groovy, delighting in the life we’ve been knitting from
improvisation and heartache.
Ba da-da dah dah dah dah . . . . .
Ba da-da dah dah dah dah . . . . .
Ba da-da dah dah dah dah . . . . .
Yet the words no longer rhyme.
We look for our sunshine silhouettes
on the pavement
making us taller and bigger and better, just as we want to be.
Yet, we know such fancy and hope no longer exist.
Sweet innocence does not return
as we gather treasures in
a satchel,
a cigar box,
a childhood lunch box.
Such carefree memories we will whisk away and
shut forever with this nail of time and
cruelty which has wizened us.
We try to sing, but the words won’t complete.
Ba da-da dah dah dah dah . . . . .
Ba da-da dah dah dah dah . . . . .
Ba da-da dah dah dah dah . . . . .
The song will not complete,
so we make space for silence.
I love how you wove the words into this piece and how it rolled across the page like a song – a groovy song! Great use of ‘knitting’ in this line:
delighting in the life we’ve been knitting from
improvisation and heartache.
And the last line resonated with me:
so we make space for silence.
Thank you, Cristy,
Admittedly, this poem was challenging. Reflecting on the prompt, I thought about two versions – a playful one and then a serious one, both with the same words. That made me think of a Paul Simon interview when he explained why he avoided “The 59th Street Bridge Song” (“Feeling Groovy”) these days. Back at my desk, time kept passing, and I needed to start writing, so I went with that musical phrase from childhood memories of “Feeling Groovy.” * * * How did you enjoy the marathon? I’ll look for some of your poems now.