Her Music Poem by Edward Punales

There was a song we had,
For long nights,
And road trips.

I'd always listen,
And she'd always sing,
Her voice mimicking the singer's,
Intonations,
Inflections,
Rolling her tongue for drums,
Squealing her voice for guitar chords,
Growling from her throat for sharp brass notes.

A one-woman band,
Her Lips,
Teeth,
And Tongue,
An orchestra,
Unto themselves.

*

She's gone,
And I can't listen to that song anymore.

I can't play it in my headphones,
Or on my car radio,
Because it isn't the same song.

It's empty,
Cold,
A hallow facsimile,
Of something beautiful,
Now lost forever.

Like a Lion without its roar,
Like a Painter without a brush,
Like Death without Life.

I miss the old music.