31: National Poetry Month Entry A
Apr. 2nd, 2011 08:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jon_chaissonApril First
You know better than to joke on a Friday
Especially when it's been one hell of a spring season
Come on, let's you and me forget the day we've had
Have a beer, talk about this great weather
Let's open up and listen and laugh and play
And forget we're another month older
April Too (1991)
By then the snow had gone away
And we'd let go of each other for the
first? second? third time?
I didn't know, I was too damn moody at the time
But the music...ah, the music lifted me.
The music of that year started so excitedly
The emergence of that British pop scene,
All those guitar washes, full of reverberation
All those voices echoing, that wall of Spectorian sound
It was April too, when I got over myself
It was near the end of sophomore year
She and I started hanging out in a lopsided friendly affair
Nothing between each of us except laughter and fun
Someone to hang out with down in those cool cellars
And upstairs in your breezy loft apartment
Nothing but movies and music, and that's all I needed
Oh April, I remember your sounds well
And I always come back to you now and again
Just to listen, just to remember
That spring into summer where everything was okay again
This entry was originally posted at http://jonchaisson.dreamwidth.org/8102.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
You know better than to joke on a Friday
Especially when it's been one hell of a spring season
Come on, let's you and me forget the day we've had
Have a beer, talk about this great weather
Let's open up and listen and laugh and play
And forget we're another month older
April Too (1991)
By then the snow had gone away
And we'd let go of each other for the
first? second? third time?
I didn't know, I was too damn moody at the time
But the music...ah, the music lifted me.
The music of that year started so excitedly
The emergence of that British pop scene,
All those guitar washes, full of reverberation
All those voices echoing, that wall of Spectorian sound
It was April too, when I got over myself
It was near the end of sophomore year
She and I started hanging out in a lopsided friendly affair
Nothing between each of us except laughter and fun
Someone to hang out with down in those cool cellars
And upstairs in your breezy loft apartment
Nothing but movies and music, and that's all I needed
Oh April, I remember your sounds well
And I always come back to you now and again
Just to listen, just to remember
That spring into summer where everything was okay again
This entry was originally posted at http://jonchaisson.dreamwidth.org/8102.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
