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 Poem For Hutch So the birds have flown The ashes are cold You will never be lonely You will never grow old No tears from gentle eyes will fall Now that your pain is gone But for me, my friend, I see no spark In those good eyes I hear no shout at my front door I will sit here evermore And count the empty years. The birds flew in from everywhere And all spoke of your magic And those of pomp and circumstance Waxed eloquent and long But very few who knew your song Will ever be the same I went down to the shore today But the ocean made no sense. And nests are built of heartfelt words And warmth and truth and beauty Of wild nights and loud, long songs Carnival, bacchanale Stupid dreams that never end Pieces that have built a friend And the wind destroys them all The pieces fall They will not fit together Not now, not ever. I sit selfishly and cry Clench my fists and try to crush all thought What was that sound? Who goes there Run dumb fingers through my hair Every thing is useless All the words of friends fall on deaf ear And nothing will make sense Until, you, my friend, are here. So the birds have flown Will not be back But I will sit on the sad shore Talk to you, watch the sky for your return How did we ever get so close? Long ago, it was so simple Naive fools in naive gangs Taking on the world Now the world has won And we have lost. So make them laugh out there Make them know of your good heart Your wild streak, your simple art Your impish grin, your wolf impression But never make them sad. And the birds still sing a lonely song Nights come down like sad blankets on empty hills The rest of the fools meander along Oblivious to the truth I sit and watch them fly Blood red wings on an early evening sky I watch them go, and gone Wonder if they sing his song Or do my ears deceive me? And love is just a four-lettered word And soul is just a motown song And friends are never here that long Forever ended yesterday, close is much too far away And nothing makes me warm Please send another storm So that some thing will make sense Always and forever, brother One foolish dreamer to another We'll meet again, sweet friend. Greg Perano November 1997 |
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