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Still Visit You

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  • Still Visit You

    Do you recall, a love once had,
    what could have been when but a lad?
    When to return where you once were
    an’ all in life ’bout nowt but her.

    Can you still see her, clear as day,
    with glee she’d help in makin’ hay?
    Come winter, walk the muddy lanes
    in gabardines, December rains.

    Can you recall, her actin’ strange,
    when sought, she oft’, her life to change?
    The city’s lure, found there employ,
    left you but just a country boy.

    Did she with pen them letters write
    an’ as with ink fade out of sight?
    When you could see in what she wrote,
    once deep a love, an afterthought?

    Them city lights an’ her new friends
    as if the party never ends.
    Powders, needles, the neon joy,
    “Come see yerself, you stupid boy.”

    Do you still plough an’ make the hay,
    still milk the cows come morn of day?
    Reap summer’s yield an’ winters brave,
    still visit you, her teenage grave?

  • #2
    How foolish to pursue those neon lights instead of a simple happy life. This was very touching - love your stories Tony.

    Comment


    • Tony Grannell
      Tony Grannell commented
      Editing a comment
      Hello AlexandratheLate, There are so many who leave the country way of life, who enjoy the neon city, find a life, love and prosper and then there are those who are weak to the temptations of the darker side. So many sad stories - a youth to return home in a casket; heart breaking indeed. Your response is very much appreciated. Fond regards, Tony.

  • #3
    Yes I do Tony, and “they called it puppy love”. Thank you for the beautiful reminder! Top of the queue!

    Comment


    • Tony Grannell
      Tony Grannell commented
      Editing a comment
      Hello Bobby, Thank you very much, so kind of you to read and respond. Do take care now, Tony.

  • #4
    The story arc in this ballad is skilfully handled. The cautionary aspect is clear, yet is wrapped up in a vivid humanity, so one doesn't feel preached to. You are the master of your craft here, Tony.

    Comment


    • Tony Grannell
      Tony Grannell commented
      Editing a comment
      Hello grant, Yes, I dare not preach. The protagonist is speaking to himself really, into a whiskey glass, I dare say. A lad, to love, to lose and to age with the memory of. Thank you very much for your splendid response. Fond regards, Tony.

  • #5
    This is a bit melancholy - perhaps just my mood when reading. How much truth, goodness, and love she missed...or dismissed.

    Comment


    • Tony Grannell
      Tony Grannell commented
      Editing a comment
      Hello RhymeLovingWriter, A sad story, no doubt, for all involved. Melancholy, is the word. So kind of you to read and respond and it is very much appreciated. Do take care now, Tony.
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