My Fantasy Blues

You’re still…
a dream, a fantasy.

A slow breeze hums with melancholy,
blues pulse low on the radio,

porch swing sways,
its creak a soft, slow rhythm.

Black-and-white memories—
framed at Grandma’s.

There’s a…
one
and only you—
There’s a…one.

No fantasy,
no faded photograph,
not just blues I bear—
your smile whispers,
you’re alive.

Not faint cadence
of lost memory—
Beyond the porch,
your story sings:

Wisdom etched in living,
harsh streets,
and twisted necks
forged your truth—
endurance, fortitude.

Still, there’s…
one
true smile—
There’s a…one.

I can’t tread your path—
those streets,
a distant pulse
from mine.
But I can
walk beside you.

Your laugh, your light,
those radiant eyes,
my world
plants its root
in you.

There’s a…
one
sole muse—
There’s a…one.

No fantasy, only truth—
my fantasy blues,
they live in you.

My heart—
beats for you—

Smile for me,
my heart
finds peace
in your light.

You’re still…
a dream, a fantasy,
your smile
now my living truth—
my truth alive…
my fantasy blues
alive in you, my muse.

There’s a…one.