January 18, 2012
Copenhagen by Lucinda Williams
Thundering news hits me like a snowball
Struck in my face and shattering
Covering me in a fine powder and mist
And mixing in with my tears,
And I'm 57 but I could be 7 years old,
'Cause I will never be able
To comprehend the expansiveness
Of what I've just learned.
But you, have disappeared
You have been released
You are flecks of light
You are missed.
Somewhere, spinning round the sun
Circling the moon
Traveling through time
You are missed.
Walking through unfamiliar streets
And I'm shaking unfamiliar hands
And I'm hearing unfamiliar laughs
And lovely language I don't understand.
It's late October in Copenhagen
The skies are grey, the snow is falling
I see my breath outside, I'm freezing
I'm motionless, I'm disbelieving.
But you, have disappeared
You have been released
You are flecks of light
You are missed.
Somewhere, spinning round the sun
Circling the moon
Traveling through time
You are missed.
Happy trials, Martin
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