Etched,
like a vinyl record
with the needle skipping,
gouging deep in the songs …
life’s memories are recorded.
Don’t always like to play
reminders of mistakes.
Some songs make me laugh, cry …
others cause tremors, quakes.
Still … true love plays on thru—
passing o’er quakes, mistakes.
Etched,
like a vinyl record
with the needle skipping,
gouging deep in the songs …
life’s memories are recorded.
Though I’ve changed tunes o’er time;
the past can’t be replayed.
People change stripes, colors
but their backgrounds are laid.
If we’ve learned anything
we will not be afraid.
Etched,
like a vinyl record
with the needle skipping,
gouging deep in the songs …
life’s memories are recorded.
Noises inside of my head
play on … repeatedly.
Old recordings screech, scratch,
melt … deserve sympathy.
Old records get broken
and sound hollow, empty.
(Richard M. Feldman) Ever since I was a young boy, the only thing I wanted to be was a cowboy. I wanted to own and work on a real ranch, with cattle and horses. Especially horses.
While I never became a cowboy, considering everything I have done
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Great metaphors, imagery, and verse ... excellent!!
Blessings,
Robert
Love Tinka
like a vinyl record
with the needle skipping,
gouging deep in the songs …
life’s memories are recorded.
fantastic verse!
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :D
i am very happy; just found out that i have been invited to go to california in july for two weeks! i am soooooooo stoked! :D