I wrote this six months to the day after Peg died. Admittedly, I was at least two-and-a-half sheets to the wind. But I meant every word of it – and still do, today.
Peggy Lou
I remember your sighs
And chirps of delight
While exploring the joys
That came in the night
Or morning, or noon,
Or evening that might
Have been granted
As some kind of
God-given right
Whether boon,
Or a blessing,
Or simply a toy,
I took my most pleasure
In giving you joy
And I know, now,
There’s no place
That I can belong
Anywhere I’m without you
Is somehow, just wrong.
And I’m lost in
A wilderness a
Thousand miles long,
Trying to somehow
Remember our song
And lying here,
Smelling
Your scent
On old clothes,
Is haunting me,
Killing me
Telling my nose
That you’re more
Than just memory
And I can suppose
That somewhere
And sometime
And some way
We chose
That our future,
And past, and
Present at least,
Would somehow
Converge, and
Be our endless feast.
And we’ll sing every song
That ever was sung
As you dance on the tips
Of my fingers and tongue
The Screwtop Letters 