Old Songs Will Never Die

Love and blues, please.

Why do sweet love songs end so quickly?

And why do the blues hurt so badly?

I can’t help reminiscing the starry night I met Fay.

We were at the karaoke in New Kingston.

Soft music was playing, and the guests were dancing.

 

The aura of love in the hall fascinated me.

I saw her standing alone by the window.

She was singing softly and swaying gracefully.

I walked up to her and said, “Would you like to dance?”

Nothing felt quite as good as getting her consent.

 

I put my arms around her waist without hesitation.

And she invitingly hugged my neck.

We danced close together to the rhythm of the cha-cha.

She wanted to dance with me all night.

I fell in love with her while we were dancing.

 

We kissed passionately near the poolside.

I dried the tears from her cheeks with my handkerchief.

And we didn’t want the night to end.

Her intense love made me feel so good,

But she left me in the rain, and I felt so sad.

 

I’ve been listening to the blues since I lost her.

Old songs will never die no matter how many years past.

They remind me of the things we used to do.

I wined and dined her, and we kissed and embraced.

The memories of her haunt me in my sleep.

 

Play me a tear-jerking song with lyrics that say,

“She’s gone; my sweet, little gypsy is gone.”

I wish the old songs could make my wish come true.

Take me back in time to where I met her.

It was an exciting night with an adorable woman.

Author's Note

This one is for the straight lovers.