Around a beach fire, stone cold sober,
we sat. The sizzle of the fire and crashing
waves seemed to play a natural minor tune.
Jack strummed his guitar as we remembered
one who used to sing us poems of the
absurdist kind, all in tune with giddy
waves and clapping hands sluggish with
too much drink.
Our minds remember the news, "They
found his car at the bottem of Devils
gorge", said he missed the turn by
Amy prods the fire with driftwood,
finding the distraction the rest of
us crave. Laura gazes out of
unseeing eyes at the log where
her love used to sit.
Jacks fingers are stayed on
second and third string and
firmly planted upon the second
fret. -E minor-
Collin begins to hum along
and Laura joins with a sonnet
she wrote in her loves memory,
one read through tears this morning
now belted out to the heavens.
The waves have become the power
of the bass and percussion is the
sizzling fire. As Jack strums his
minor chord four voices raise,
for a sonnet in E minor.
23 hours ago