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Country Songs I see the dance floor, smell the sawdust, watch the couples swaying to the silver vocals of Emmy Lou, her sweet soprano singing “Save The Last Dance For Me" I’ve just fallen to pieces with Patsy Cline, and promised Willie not to let my babies grow up to be cowboys. I make light of it, but, in truth, the music brings me to tears, and the lyrics pluck me dry. Granted, my own inner song twangs a bit flat at times; my strings need to be changed by careful fingers, and my wood is thirsty. But give me “Three Chords And The Truth”, repeated choruses of “God Must Be A Cowboy” (well, maybe throw in a shot of “Jose Cuervo”) and I can still be played. |
Additional Notes:
This poem, under a different title, was published here on TPL in 2004 (I believe).
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas H. Smihula On Date: 2014-10-20 15:14:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Nice to read something from the heart. Music can do that to us make us reach for meaning and possibilities. Enjoyed the read thanks for posting.