Poetry 'n Prose


In the dead of the night I listen
to Billie Holiday, I hear every note,
how her voice rises above the mountain
of our species tragedy, a longing

that’s defining us, the universe
and the birds in the trees, learning
of course we don’t live long enough
we need evolution to hurry on up

and I the sceptic who since the age
of five have found it hard to believe
that good men and women do exist
am forced by you to reconsider this

insisting the courage to be vulnerable
is the most important part, we have
and so with my tears I trust you
like wind and rain I trust you

from the moment we first met,
your courage reinforcing new-found
belief that one voice can make
all the difference, to me

And yes tonight listening to Billie
you make me cry, I will not forget,
how I wanted to give my life to you,
will our evolution ever arrive?

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

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