The Day the Music Died

When February brings a chill,
I think about that song,
and see you standing there
on that beach,
white sand, blue water,
palm trees casting
shade, solitude, and
you swaying to the
sound of the waves,
with your pony tail flowing down
blowin'in the wind.


We became children again,
building castles, palaces, and
writing our
names in the sand,
snapping pictures of each other,
and watching that flimsy
paper and string drifting on the breeze.

Sometimes we'd cry,
but you and I knew
true love ways
and Oh Boy,
when we were together
nature could see
we were right for each other.


When I think about that song.
I think about you.
I think about three stars falling
from the sky.
Strange
how a song
sounds like a memory,
like a recording
of a summer's day at the beach.

The day the music died,


Turn a different corner
we never would have met,
and faint hope never
would have soared.

Like a beach-pea blossoming
and binding the sand,
our hearts were blossoming and
binding love.

When I think about that song.
I think about you.
I think about three stars falling
from the sky.
Strange
how a song
sounds like a memory,
like a recording
of a summer's day at the beach.

The day the music died,


At sunset,
we would spread a blanket,
unpack a basket,
and lay back
for a picnic on the beach.

Sometime following that
sunset
in the still of the night
to angel of the morning
the silence of your
gestures and your smiles
attracted me
then
you said stay,
and it was complete.


Strange how a song
sounds like a memory.


like recording
of a summer's day at the beach


The day the music died.

The Day the music died.

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