Somewhere in the deepest part of the river
Where the trout hid
and the flies swarmed
as big as buzzards
over a dead body.
I dreamed of bluesy piano solos
and of ice cream melting over a waffle cone.
The canoe remained as still as a picture
Sleeping waves kept silent
under the wide open sky
at the edge
of the canyon walls.
A kiss whispered over my closed eyes
amidst the winds soft lullaby.
A dream resonates throughout the seasons.
Before ice rested here
and the sands ran
with Egrets snowy plumage
down to the waterline.
And the great Gene Harris played “Summertime”
behind the foggy windows of a blue Impala.
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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This is a poem that just screams Bob Seager. I love the imagery and scenarios you paint. That is why you are on my favorites, talent like this is not common.
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I can see everything that your saying so clear
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God... you have such an amazing way with words... I'm honestly in awe of your ability. This poem is so beautiful and reminiscent... I loved this line the most -
"A kiss whispered over my closed eyes"
It's so gentle... it makes me happy
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Beautiful
I think this is my favorite, I've probably said that before about one on your poems but I do believe this is one of your best. Great ending, I love it.
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oh, this is just wonderful writing!
"and the great Gene Harris played Summertime
behind the foggy windows of a blue Impala..."
can't get any better than that.
love, lane
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Awesome
Such a picturesque view, and carefree senses, I love how you merge jazz into everything makes it seem so nostalgic... "Summertime" indeed...
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oh wow.
What an ending...
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