Blue-Aged Love

I search for you
like a lost lover of jazz,
I find you in the dim
as you play a deceiver of love,
where love is never free
prices to pay at every bank vault.

Waiting for musical clouds
to form in all the shapes
we always talked about.
A feeble goodness
shining phosphorescent on the future;
I know we will not meet,
for another twenty years,
when death creeps up on us.

I wait for your weeping rays,
dingy in broken wood.
The love that kills words,
ill-defined and toothless.
Your music
soothes my inky soul.

I asked you to stay awhile,
to admire the closeness
of our mayhem energy.
I still see you now,
indistinct from across centuries,

we faded into change.
Into blue pockets filled with music
behind poetry’s veil,
we sewed our denim love
into golden sun buttons,
glowing coins on rings
in dim bank vaults,
mahogany and friendship
shifted into bank accounts
of locked chances.

Photo Credit: Noel F. Flickr via Compfight cc

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