English poetry

Poems in English

French Quarter Singer

Strumming your polished guitar with long, nail-lightened fingers,
Where are you now, leaning forward a peasant-dressed arm –
Lark on the near side of midnight, my crescent curb lady,
Ear to your sound, dangling each with a silver folk charm?
Sweet was your voice for an evening, amid the brash jazzy –
Seamless soprano, your scales a tough, platinum thread.
Angel on brick, tipping jar at your feet, were you happy
Smiling at me through the blonde of your half-hanging head?
Monies I dropped in its opening I have forgotten.
Doubtless you spent them with virtue as pure as your song.
And if you didn’t, no damage, oh cantor of sugar:
Fair was your all for one night. You will keep my love long.

1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)

Poem French Quarter Singer - Jennifer Reeser