Melancholy’s Song
By Michael Shoemaker

 

It’s Friday and drizzling again
while you drive home
listening to the radio with me by your side
and the song comes on.

 

It’s the one that sometimes thrills,
brings moods or something too hard to describe,
but somehow always
matches our souls.

 

You roll down the window to watch
tiny beads of water bounce off your skin
and just about everything smells as it was before-
something of lavender.

 

There used to be the taste of the sea breeze
on the tips of our tongues
and the warmth of our hearts
with tenderness and understanding.

 

You turn into my driveway, stop the engine and look at me.
Tears roll down our cheeks knowing what can no longer be
and what no longer needs to be said.
I get out of the car, shut the door and walk away.
The last note floats skyward beyond our reach

 

Michael Shoemaker from U.S., is a poet, writer, and photographer. His poems have appeared in Ancient Paths Literary Journal, Front Porch Review, Utah Life Magazine, and elsewhere. He lives in Utah near the Great Salt Lake with his wife and son. Michael enjoys pickleball and gardening.