Little big man

Chords plucked from sad strings
and each note brings a memory,

the one stop

on the stoop of the last stop
we sit and survey
the mystery,

moving to ‘the one drop’
taking time to catch our breath,

chords plucked from sad strings
linger on
and the tears, they
still sting our eyes,

looking at the wall clocks
at how quickly
time flies.

born into the new life
where its freedom sets us free
moving on the same spot
in the river to the sea

chords plucked from sad strings,
linger on, they linger and they
will go on,
notes we remember
until  we,
we become the song.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.