Play it again, Sam!

 

I said: Sam, see you in Casablanca!
And he shrank to a boy’s voice in a
phone with a lousy connection and
vanished in the night. Now it’s late
and I’m running out of time, but still
I’ve that last dream. I’ll go to sleep –
alone as always and wake the same,
seems to remains until one morning,
always coming too fast, when I’ll be
carried out feet first, dreams to dust.
Sam as I once knew, dreamed of me
as I about him to join in Casablanca.
Oh, it’s just the same old song about
love and a man and a woman, lost in
the flow of time. But I’ll wait for him!

 

 

 

This entry was posted in Africa, alienation, apart, become old, borders, create life, desirers, dreaming, faith, heartache, inspiring movies, life and love, loneliness, lost, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, politics, repression and borders, romance, sentimentality, unhappiness and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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