Remember, remember, the eighth of December.....
This was all I could do for John:
The Dream is Over
Sing to me like you did before,
When you showed me how you won the war.
When love was all and love was real,
With grapefruit served at every meal…
Those are the days I miss the most,
And haunt like a forgotten ghost.
In an empty garden near Central Park
We passed a broken question Mark,
And watched to spirits dancing strange
As they passed into revolver range.
That night we asked a falling star
Urgent, "Do you know who you are?"
Walking on ice for twenty-six years,
The world is weary of blood and of tears.
Where is our dreamweaver, who sang so sincere?
Where is the voice that we once held so dear?
The dream is over; it was hardly begun
Lost to the world down the barrel of a gun.
The dream is over.
© Vera Nix
I miss him so bad....
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