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Lovelorn Poet in New Orleans, LA: I Remember I Love You… But Not Much Else

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Muse, Muse... Won't You Dance? by Ben Ledbetter

Muse, Muse… Won’t You Dance? by Ben Ledbetter

It really is a unique city
New Orleans

Where beautiful architecture comes to die
We are thousands of people displaced some returned some never came back
Of course some. . .

I fear like these buildings I am losing my history
My memory is shanty and crumbly these days

I remember major events in my life you of course were the biggest
But even that there is a faded memory

I remember I loved you like really loved you like I’ve never loved anyone else
But I wouldn’t know your face from anyone else in a small crowd

I guess that’s for the better for everyone involved
I just hope someday I develop new memories here that stick a little longer.

her two cents 225px

 

 

 

I am a unique city losing my history
I fear my memory is a faded memory
I remember these days, these buildings,
I remember beautiful architecture, shanty and crumbly
I loved you like I’ve never loved anyone else
I develop, but even there you die displaced
I wouldn’t know your face, thousands of people in a crowd
I guess that’s for the better
I just hope it really is returned
to New Orleans

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Comments

  1. AP says

    I sometimes marvel at the way memories fade. I wonder how much of what remains is true? Memories are always ours of course, and limited to what we separately think occurred. Friends, lovers, families, and others help ground a common memory as we tell stories. Even then, sometimes what lasts isn’t what happened. It’s what we agree took place. As we separate, and they fade, what keeps memory tied to reality? Do the moments I recall become merely my ideas about what they were?

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