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Billie

True beauty.

A mournful crooning fills the air,
It’s quiet desperation
Defies earthly sensation;
It’s longing more than I can bear:
A voice? Or hanging prayer?
The tinkling keys, a lounging chair,
The record spins as it plays
Memories of bygone days
When you were grand, and whole, and fair:
How I long to be there.
Lady Day, her grandiose flair,
Her fiery heart is broken,
Yet she remains outspoken
In the smoky night; the stage glare:
A sight beyond compare.
In dim-lit rooms I sit and stare,
Our shared time flows in reverse,
Yet remains severed by curse
Of changing years. But I dare
To live out our secret
Love affair.

Autres oeuvres par O.C. Bearheart...



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