March 9

Dear Woodstock

Dear Woodstock,

You’ll never guess.

You know the man I said I’d meet someday?

Well, I’ve got something to confess.

He picked me up on Friday.

Asked if he reminded me of you.

I just laughed and lit a cigarette,

Said “I hope that’s impossible to do.”

My life’s gotten simple since.

And it fluctuates so much.

Happy and sad and back again.

I’m not crying out too much.

Think about you some of the time.

It’s strange and hard to deal.

Think about you lying there.

And those blankets lie so still.

Nothing breathes here in this apartment so cold.

Nothing moves or even smiles.

I’ve been thinking of some way to hide.

And there’s bars out here for miles.

Sorry about the every kiss.

And every kiss you wasted back

I think the thing you said wasn’t true,

I’m not going to die alone and sad.

The music’s feeling real these days.

Yeah, Boo, it hurt’s me some.

Never thought I’d feel so blue.

Woodstock, you’re almost gone.

I think I’ve fallen out of love, I hope…

I’ve fallen.. out of love . . .with you.


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Posted March 9, 2020 by Charlotte Von Woffle Greer in category "All of Charlotte's Poetry

About the Author

From Review: "Charlotte Von Woffle Greer is an artist in the truest sense of the word. Tormented, embattled, strong, fearless and fearful. Curious, and full of wonder yet jaded and defeated at times. An artist shares what they feel. A true and brave artist shares what they feel completely as Charlotte does, in these pages." -Erik Johnson