Fool for You

I feel stupid even in saying that Spring’s seeds last week were sown.
for time she flies, like snowflakes, months past last been blown.
A year ago – a year ago! I swore I blew you off.
Like an end-of-winter cold; a second skin I had to slough
But here we are, the both of us, a full cycle round the sun
and while I knew it over, and we had had our run
and of everything I was secure, so sure, proven as true,
all the things I had taken on as fact and shouted that I knew,

at this point faced once again by your steely eyes of blue:
I’m a fool… all year… for you.

In all the months I kept my distance and kept your name reviled
it’s possible I swam in murky waters of denial
and when then said that I was better left off alone
and you were better swimming under many tons of stone
I was not thinking at my best – and lest the rest agree too quick,
I was keeping my own counsel, drinking much and spewing sick –
so to finally see your face again after all this twelve months’ time
is enough to make this short attention prosey poet sink to rhyme

and repeat what was admitted back in one now in verse two:
I’ve been a fool… all year… for you

I’ve been an idiot all of the time that you’ve been gone
and well before to have sung that dumb "hit the road, Jack" song.
I can’t believe the brainless butt was I to let you flee
and if I were a smarter man, I’d stop talking now, but see
the year it just continues and I’m not a wiser man
and if I was ever clever and could come up with a plan
than I’d probably have never been the dummy that you loved
or maybe could have found a way to end this.

Unexpectedly, I have arrived here at this devil’s queue.
I’m a fool… all year… for you.
It’s exhausting singing praises; my throat’s hoarse and coarse and blew.
I’m a fool… all year… for you.
I wish I had been better. I wish I had been true.
I’m a fool… all year… for you.
If I’d done it right at first, this year we’d’ve never knew.
I’m a fool… all year… for you.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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