Lyrics

Picked a book up off the shelf
A memory of my former self
I wrote it back when I was young
No idea what I’d become

Page one, pouring rain
Waiting on a Spanish train
First time away from home
I was so lonely

Page ten, Montpellier
Tuesday morning, loud cafe
“Bonjour monsieur, vous désirez?”
She was more than perfect

Poetry, page seventeen
A villanelle for Angeline
Written as she stroked my hair
Sunday morning, autumn air
Page eighteen, nothing there

Of all the many things I’ve done
Wish that I could change but one
Wish I never had to go
Would that I could tell her so

A memory of my former self
I placed the book back on the shelf