Beautiful Losers (Fr. Leonard Cohen) Poem by LeeAnn Azzopardi

On a Sunday afternoon
I watched a blind accordian player
Doing a rendition of Hallelujah
It echoed through the tunnels of the TTC*
And reminded me of the days in Montreal
Where we would travel on the Metro holding hands
I wanted to dance like I did in those days
How we would make love on a Sunday afternoon
With Leonard Cohen blasting through our studio apartment
And then go to that Delicatiessan where he smoked
And drank coffee writing sonnets of love
Thinking we were the beautiful losers he wrote about
After, the blind musician was finished
I realised I won't there in Montreal, but in Toronto
And the accordian player had moved me to weep once again
Son, I dropped a toonie* in his cup
And told him Encore!
Walking away with a hole in my heart
And a tear in my eyes