Two moons? Perhaps one is blue.
Blue Moon Every Twenty Years
By Glenda Council Beall
Blue Moon was not my favorite song
until the night you sang to me,
before our wedding day in 1964.
You were a student of the forties’ music,
played it with your band when you
were just a high school lad in 1953.
On the Love Boat in eighty-four,
backed by strings, you owned the stage,
like you were born to be the rage. Like Frank,
you melted hearts when you sang again Blue Moon.
Cruising on St. Lawrence Seaway, in 2006,
Brits, French, and Austrians cheered,
when you sang our song for my birthday.
Behind closed eyes, my mind, a time machine gone wild,
propelled me back to that June night. For one brief moment,
I was young again, eager to spend my life with you.
The years flew past on wings so soft
I hardly noticed. You returned to sit beside me.
Basking in your new-found fame, you whispered
in my ear, I’ll sing your song for you again
in twenty years.
From NOW MIGHT AS WELL BE THEN, published by Finishing Line Press and also available at Amazon.com