Again and Again

Again and again-

It’s almost dizzying.

Sunday afternoons, 

A time of dread, a time of unease. 

Sitting patiently up against the soft yellow wall, 

Its valleys, strained grooves of acetate, cease to move. 

Wait these valleys do little though,

For the melody they sing bide unbroken in the air.

Why would I shut it off, how could I stop the needle. 

The opening note sings to me,

A desire to jump in leaves

To drink a warm cup of coffee 

To hold someone in my arms. 

Sundays now full of hope and light. 

Again and again-

Whisper to me something I could never tell myself. 

Feed me what nourishment I push away.

Tell me again and again. 

As time goes on the disk will remain beloved, 

Its grooves holding new badges of honor that now change the record. 

But no matter the crack behind every chime, 

Its voice is still cherished, unable to ever be forgotten.

Sundays can still glisten even though it sounds hurt. 

One stutter could not deter me

It will always hold its heart and it will always be a light.