Decrescendo

                                 by Brenda Joy Dobson

You don't have to worry about me "dishing" on you,

Writing your "swan song" for rich royalties, too.

When we crossed paths, it was fine for awhile

When you slipped quietly away,

I, vented with gracefulness and style.

Though I'd become your confidant,

sounding-board, platonic Friend,

Stood by you, "starry, puppy-eyed" all the way till the end.

You hadn't realized I was the one you could trust,

Not revealing your sins,

Dragging your name through the dust.

Like a "mission impossible,"

You kept bumping your head,

Consuming day-dreams like candy,

Avoiding love, neglect often fed.

You might be missing me, "sumtimes,"

I miss you a little bit, too,

But, as life breezes by on most days,

There's nothing left, between us, to do.

Blue-music notes go rifting on air,

Like "windtalkers" drifting on high,

Carried by time's metronome,

Staccato's, unmelodious good-bye.

bjd