That Favorite Song

The story of Mary and Jimmy O’Toole.
The story of a day to remember.
Of the love of the young, the passing of friends,
and the day that the story ends.

Jimmy sat listening to their favorite song.
In the midst of morning, as the day rolled on.
He hadn’t slept much in the night that passed.
Something was bothering him and he new it would last.

As the sun rose from the earth and was placed in the sky’s.
With trembling lips, tears filled in his eyes.
Turning his head so that no-one could see.
He sat helpless and afraid. A tear ran down his cheek.

Through misty eyes, he could see her for a while.
The love in her eyes, her hair, her smile.
The love they shared was warm, tender true.
But the love they shared was through.

Remembering back to the days passed by.
He lowered his head and began to cry.
And images danced as he continued to weep.
The memories of their love he would always keep.

An image began to form as a dream.
Walking hand in hand through a country park stream.
Returning home they kissed into the night.
And awoke in the morning to the golden sunlight.

Listen to the radio as the day moves on.
Listen to the music of that favorite song.
Content to do nothing but lay in the sun.
Walk in the park till the day is done.

But as evening drew near, they went for a drive.
Hair in the wind, feeling so much alive.
Rounding a curve, a boy came into sight.
Half fallen in the street, blinded by the light.

A sharp turn on the wheel threw the car past the mark.
Metal gives way as a car rolls in the dark.
Being pulled from the wreck, looking through the dust cloud.
Jimmy could see the boy in the crowd.

Confused, bewildered. He looked in the night.
Not sure of the moment, not sure of the sight
He started to ask as they bandaged his head.
The they stopped him and said - she’s dead.

Jim cried from his sleep – No, she didn’t die!
Awake now, he looked to God – Why?
Why’d you take her, couldn’t you see?
Why’d you take Mary Ann from me?

At the close of the song, as he said his good-bye’s.
You could see the hurt and pain in his eyes.
He’ll always remember the days long gone.
When they’d walk through the park to that favorite song...

by Dayle Gaylin

Comments (1)

The poems of yours that I have read so far, are very moving and deeply written. I have read them with great interest. Thank you so much. Sincerely Ernestine Northover