A Chord Of Silence Poem by John F. McCullagh

When you are old like me
The sports page isn't the first one
That you check.

It was just a modest notice,
If I hadn't checked the obits
I'd have missed it,
I suspect.

Karen L., an entertainer,
She sang and played
Guitar.

In the eighties
I'd be there most nights
When she played our local
Bar

Mostly she sang others' songs.
Her own lost on the wind.
Still and all I was a fan.
We were never lovers;
Merely friends


Her alto voice
was smooth and strong.
Her brown hair streaked with grey.
A little Simon
A little Guthrie
Those were the songs she'd play.

She made a modest living
As she turned breathe into song.
Others might have grown discouraged
But not her;
she was strong.

We lost touch; (my fault)
some years ago.
Life dictates what must be.
Like River water our paths diverged
and flowed on
separately.

Her old guitar is silenced now
No nimble fingers play.
I'll be along in just a while
Dear friend
My water of life
Will empty soon
Into the selfsame sea.