Acoustic guitar. Harmonies. Pining for someone. Clutching at memories as they whiz by your mind’s eye.
A sepia forest. A gnarled tree. Moonlight. Significant and insignificant.
Mixed emotions. Aren’t they always? The time of perfect happiness is past, perhaps. Isn’t that why childhood is special? And isn’t that why adulthood is more interesting, perhaps? More painful, but richer?
For Emma. For Angie. For Judie. For Peggy Sue. For Maggie Mae. For Jessica. For Layla.
Mourning. Loss. Love. Burial. Dirge. Ethereal. Floating.
Loneliness. Alone-ness. All-oneness. Asocial. Not a commune. No.
Catharsis. Light at the end of the tunnel. Finding your way. The road not taken. The road taken.