You octogenarian you
The cheering has died
The back slapping abated
And still that timeless voice
Plays to the masses
Who endlessly adore, want more
Even as Willie’s body
Defers to the grandfather time
That cinderfies us all
His songs, that remarkable voice
Defies all
Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground, Georgia on My Mind, Always on My Mind
When the time for fingering
And fretting of strings
Has passed
When that venerable, ancient
Guitar
Takes its final strum
We’ll celebrate a life of
Outlaw nose-thumbing
A life of scribbling ditties
That even now
Are folkloric
City of New Orleans, Stardust, Pancho and Lefty
Meandering in the ether one day
I chanced to google Willie and wife
Like Old Shakey’s Pegi
The Boss’ Patti
In image after image
She, Annie d’, was beside her man
On the Road Again, Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain, Crazy
I wish old Willie
At the end of his days
Knows the soft words, and
Even softer caresses
That salve my own dotage
So these can allow
The words still to come
And even more
The Red Headed Stranger’s
Voice
To shine eternally
My Heroes Have Always been Cowboys, Good Hearted Woman, Seven Spanish Angels
Beautiful xxx
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