Mr. Malone Poem by Rahul Aithal

Do you remember me Mr. Malone?
I am your little Amy, now grown.
I lived two blocks down, when I was young,
and loved the sound and the roll of your drum.
And when you sang and strummed the guitar,
I came running to watch you hour after hour.
Standing on my toes I would peep inside,
through the open windows, high and wide.
Now I've come to hear your music again, Mr. Malone,
and all I hear is a clock tick and you sitting alone.