He Left His Scarf in My Car

Having just learned that musician Billy Faier died this past year, I’m posting a poem that he inspired many years ago. 

He left his scarf in my car.

Sleepily I fingered the hand-woven wool

that had embraced his neck

on countless winter sojourns.

Then I saw my empty finger:

my ring was on his piano

or perhaps on his hand now

playing Bach.

As I drove into the morning sun

a million ghosts of one-night stands

faded into history:

my ring was on his piano

and his scarf was in my car.

Filed under: Musings, Poetry, relationships Tagged: Life, Personal