The Ballad Poem by LeeAnn Azzopardi

We sang his ballad along
The shoreline
As the sun seeps into the St. Lawerance
The nights seem to arrive sooner
Now, that autumn is closer
The winds are coming from the North
All we have for comfort
Is a bottle of tequilla
And the occasional embrace
Let's go home
We can play his record as we continue to
Listen to his voice and drink the rest of the bottle
An imagining him singing for us
His songs of despair