Repetoire Poem by John F. McCullagh

There are songs that I no longer play,
even when I’m at practice alone.
The words are to painful to sing
now that I’ve reaped what I’ve sown.

There are places that we used to go,
where I haven’t gone in a year.
The barkeep must think that I’ve died,
As I no longer stop for a beer.

There are friends that I no longer see-
They would only remind me of you.
Phantom pains to an old amputee
Bitter leaves from my garden of rue.

There are songs that I no longer play,
Whose lyrics would stab at my heart.
These days, I’ve been drinking for two.
It’s my solace since we’ve been apart.