Birthday Poem

It started with a million notes
falling out of a guitar. It will end
with darkness and silence. In between
there was and will be
a thing like dancing, but not quite. Plus
there were lovers, there was argument,
there was music, there were changes — oh,

what difference does it make? Sixty-five years
and this time was both too short and
far too long.

I’m so tired now
and you are still just getting started.
When I close my eyes that last time
you will know relief after a bit of time
and a bit of grief.

You will, I promise;
a promise I can only back up by going
and whispering, you’ll see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T
3/3/2025