On the record
I had placed on the player
Floyd Cramer
"For Those That Cry"

Meanwhile I sat in the chair
feet on the stool
in front of the warm fire
sitting in comfort
with Floyd's piano
in my head
that was thinking of you
far away

After the record stopped
I remained a while
listening to the hum from the silent record-player
the sound of the gas fire
the traffic outside
and the tick
of the clock

The clock struck the hour
With the chime removed
it no longer strikes a clear note
but a dull resounding thud

I got up
changed the record
turned down the heat
made supper

Whether for you or for Floyd
I cried.

Gerald England

If you've any comments on this poem, Gerald England would be pleased to hear from you.

Poetry by Gerald England

This webpage originally appeared at the Snakeskin website.
Web page recoded by Gerald England
This page last updated: 17th September 2008.