This Old Familiar Melody


It’s two-o’clock,
but it seems like six or seven.
The grayish clouds
are thickening;
and it’s starting
to drizzle.

As meek drops of rain
kiss the ground,
an old, familiar melody
begins to play.

As falling leaves in rust and yellow
waltz to the tune of autumn
in the bridge close to bayou,
silent tears
march on my cheeks.

And as the long, dark
and lonely eve approaches,
an old familiar gloom
looms anew.

Memories are rewinding,
while this very lonely heart
still yearns for you.