All those old, happy tunes you sing
almost under your breath,
singing them louder and louder
as the evening wears on and you
work your way through the songbook,
work your way through the bar,
wishing she were still there,
and hoping she remembers you
until there’s nothing left
to sing about, nothing left
but those last few gulps of tequila
and you stop singing, realize
there are no tunes that aren’t the blues.
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RDP Thursday ~ THE BLUES
Scrambled, Not Fried 
oh no! now I have that song in my head- I guess that’s why they call it the blues! and I don’t know the words which is even more annoying! haha
Ooh I’m such a new fan of your poems (are they? Or are they song lyrics, something else?). Greetings from a new follower! 🙂
So true 🙂 Thanks for joining in