I am tired and not all that inspired, but I’ll reflect on my memories from last night and maybe that will be all right for a poem.
Latte. Said Hi to you. I don’t know why I shook.
Sugar. Stirred the cup. Looked at my songs, all bundled up.
Line up. We sat together the whole of four minutes. Then you were enrolled.
Music. You opened the night, introduced numbers, they sang. Your hair was a sight.
Guitars. Underneath a black cap, dark brown waves curled out, wide eyes stared and acknowledged our united plight.
Voices. I saw your jacket. Shiny leather covered in scratched up plastic buttons. Metal jacket. Some random friend was wearing it. I wondered what it’d be like to wear.
Poetry. You interrupted my introduction to tell a story. Anyone else and you would have been decked by a shelf, but I could be wait, as much as I just wanted to sing.
Laughs. I sang, I sang, and I sang. I asked if I should play another? A chorus of “yes”s met my ears. You made a special request, mentioned the song you’d heard about.
Applause. My friend. My good friend. That’s what you called me. “That made my night.” That’s what you said. Good. I am glad. Making people happy is what I like to do.
The end. I did it. I played the new songs. Half written, half known, I played away, singing and joking and acting every ounce, and they loved it, and I loved it, and that’s what it’s about.
I’ll write a short snappy poem another time. For now, I hope you enjoyed that poetic….mix.