Trying to Move On

A seasonal ballad of lost love to be accompanied by mournful fiddles, whining steel guitars, and an assortment of empty whisky bottles

 

In the first clear light of springtime,

when warming nature stirred warm feelings,

I met a man I thought I loved;

his kisses sent me reeling.

 

And then as soon, I lost him,

watched him go off to find

someone else or something new,

maybe even a better life.

 

And I, not ready for goodbyes,

wiped the tears out of my eyes

and tried to move on,

tried just to move on.

 

In the blazing sun of summer,

I met I man who seemed so right

that when he seemed to share my love,

I thought I’d finally won the fight.

 

And then as soon, I lost him,

watched him go off to find

someone else or something new,

maybe even a better life.

 

And I, not ready for goodbyes,

wiped the tears out of my eyes

and tried to move on,

tried just to move on.

 

In the yellow light of autumn,

with the leaves starting to turn,

I met the man I’d dreamed of,

the one for whom I’d yearned.

 

And then as soon, I lost him,

watched him go off to find

someone else or something new,

maybe even a better life.

 

And I, not ready for goodbyes,

wiped the tears out of my eyes

and tried to move on,

tried just to move on.

 

In the cold, grey light of winter,

with the trees bereft of leaves,

I met a man I lived for,

whom I wanted so to please.

 

And then as soon, I lost him,

watched him go off to find

someone else or something new,

maybe even a better life.

 

And I, not ready for goodbyes,

wiped the tears out of my eyes

and tried to move on,

tried just to move on.

 

And I, not ready for goodbyes,

wiped the tears out of my eyes

and tried

to move

on.

 

Copyright 2016

T. Allen Culpepper

 

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