Our Song

This poem talks of a one in a lifetime love.

My fingers trace the orange letters and numbers,

The soft glow gives a tangy tint to my skin,

My eyes scan the artists and songs,

Over the years they have been changed

Replacing the old with the less old and somewhat new,

Finally I let my fingers settle on the buttons that will always feel like home,

 

A-1,

My mind went back

Picturing the rough hands that once graced these simple symbols,

My memory does not recall that magnificent man as clearly as I wish,

But it holds enough to bring that clear emptiness back to my heart,

His warm smile,

Joyous laugh,

And of course his sweet kisses,

 

A-1,

That was our song,

Every chance we got

We would sneak away to our special place,

And after pressing our special combination,

He would sweep me off my feet with his charm and grace

And dance with me,

 

As the palm of my hand slides over the beautiful record playing jukebox

I remember him,

My best friend,

My hero,

My first true love,

My grandpa.

 

((In Memory of the WWII veteran, Arthur Stringham who passed away in the summer of 2000.))

Author's Note

The jukebox now sits in the finished basement of my aunt's house. It is still up and running to this day.