Proof of love is in the long lines
that reach around your photographic memories
to the end of your casket where your family stands
An island of misfit toys saying goodbye to a dear friend
I’m starting to feel the effects of the parking lot
flask that my uncle keeps in his coat pocket
I knew my brain cells were dying for no earthly purpose
and I think the paintings of Jesus Christ know
that I’m buzzed lying in this church pew
Maybe all those Irish jokes are true after all
Proof of love is breaking fire codes
in a house that raised six children
“Bring more chairs up from the basement”
A house of books and tools feels empty
without its patriarch to join hands with
And thank God for a family that even through all their flaws
are together at the table
To discuss their racist coworker
or the new band your cousin found
It took four months to clean
50 years of memories out of this house
But, memory is beyond material
goods
It is held in the heart of your loved ones
That miss you
This is impressive. Who knew you had all this in ya? Ever try putting your thoughts to music?
Sent from my iPhone
>
LikeLike
Thank you! I do work with a friend of mine on music. I’m not much of a musician so she helps me write chords with lyrics I write. Sometimes I help her with lyrics too.
LikeLike