The Night’s Transcriptions

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It was brighter then, in the

summer when buses came

waltzing around the traffic

circle, when the sun traversed

the bedroom walls, when the

pen and squeaky chair, the

soft hum of the radio rallied

the day. The ones we adored

were beautiful, blond haired,

with charm that washed right

through them- like milk from

a cow. How intent they were

on their books. The breeze

came swishing against the

paper. The clock sang in

time, knowing it still had

time. We lay on a crappy

futon Barely asleep,

nearly dreaming,

almost alone, soon to be

gone- the days disappearing

The nights, the patient

apprentice of young hearts

taking notes in moonlight

Years from now, I’ll find

their transcriptions in a

black notebook

composed of nostalgia.

filled with memories

that read like

tenderness and all

the things I thought

I wanted. For a moment,

I’ll recall the beauty of

summer days and a boy

who dissolved, sweet as

rain, along strands of gold

in a dying field of first

loves.

-Tosha Michelle

Listen to Fields – Of – Gold -Vocals and Guitar by Tosha Michelle 2020 #np on #SoundCloud