free fallin'

Tom died.

but songs I love live on

I can hear them and sing them whenever I want to

I feel sad

the last words I wrote about him,

I called him a rich bastard..

reacting to some song that rang false

(probably displacing some anger!)

now I’m wishing I’d never been critical

so many songs I love came outta that head

outta that heart

out of that imagination!

it’s got me thinking about you

all that love I’ve had for you

here it is, ruined.

a pile of shredded letters

a pile of ashes!

there are ghosts of beautiful dreams

and memories of hope

but there’s also that rubble in the closet

and the slammed door

I know if you surprised us all and left early,

I’d be sad and regret the ending

us as strangers with barriers up

weary fenced eyes

but, realistically,

I’ll probably drop dead first and

you won’t even know