7). Recognition

I think about him sitting in an office chair talking about music-singing-walking down the street-talking-he was always going into the next year and he was always on the verge of finding recognition.
I don't think he talked about anything but music and shows and parts; he was extraverted  He looked a few years older.  He was a little taller.  He sang and was freely conversational and took me places.
He was wrapped up in what he was doing.
He had a smile and a set chin.
I don't know whether that amounted to determination or just a forward orientation-
walking down the street-he'd take my hand or stand beside me-he always had his own plans
and his own time for realizing them.
He had dark hair, dark eyes, a pale complexion, a smile, and the same accent.
I sang songs with him.  I kept singing.
He'd stop by to listen at times.


"Recognition," poem seven of "Lettersongs," unpublished work © 2008,
Lisa Page Weil.  All rights reserved.