The Blues
Posted to Poetry
by Dubbs on 2002-03-02 03:51:00
They were watching these men set everything up from above
Six old black men and a stringy white boy with a mustache not quiet grown in
A single soft purple light shown down on the middle of the stage, empty
Mixed up sounds on the outside, preparing, making sure everything was perfect
And then she stepped under the light
A few notes from the black man on piano
The white boy starts to whisper through his harmonica
As the others join in making their horns cry
This was the blues man
Playing just for you
And you
And you over there
And you at the bar with your back turned
And for me
And for us together in the corner
She began to sing
"Am I Blue"
This was the blues
Crying for all of us who couldn't cry any longer
You got up slowly and silently
Whispered in my ear, and you were gone
Fading away with the light
But I could still hear your voice
"Am I Blue"
Who would of thought that,
That would be the last time I would ever see you
At least we'll always have Paris or New York
Or whatever it is they say
At least we had it
And you,
You were beautiful
And maybe for a second so was I
"Am I Blue"
This was the blues
