Vintage Poem
Dedicated to a Once Close Friend
Our conversations are held on vinyl,
Each groove represents a sound,
Except the grooves are now worn
and the needle is blunt,
From the record spinning round and round
Our memories are captured on film,
Each image composing a motion,
Except the image is sepia and no longer in focus,
As a result of a lack of devotion
Our songs are scribbled in pencil,
Each note playing its own part,
Except the music sheet has aged and the scribbles are unclear,
I no longer know where to start
I wonder if you still possess such things
I know you did at one stage
Is it pushed in a corner or up in your loft
Gathering more dust with age?
They say vintage possessions are precious
Due to age and sentimental value
But they are not as precious as only half a collection
And you no longer have yours... do you?
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