"long ago,
and oh so far away,
i fell in love with you,
before the second show.
your guitar,
it sounds so sweet and clear,
but you're not really there,
it's just the radio."
the original of this song, by the carpenters, lives in my own childhood history alongside roberta flack's killing me softly. something about the pair of them, and a pre-adolescent girl's fancy for musicians and far off places (her wandering gypsy nature captured in a song, and soulful eyes). suppose i had a grasp on the sadness of love, the loneliness when much of your heart is tied up in songs, and yet there is something lasting - far beyond promises, lies, trysts in the backseats of cars, first kisses, make ups and break ups. the songs still play, they hold on longer, they do not forget the initial blushes and dreams. they do not warm you in the cold hours of the middle of the night, but there is something they bring, something to count on, something to trust.
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