Leonard Cohen

We didn't always have these scars
Or was I this quick with a smile
I always wrote poetry though
mostly about inconsequential things
nobody seemed to care about
and had at least four versions of 'Hallelujah'
on my playlist at all times
and Leonard Cohen was alive.

There was this guy I knew once
he had a green raincoat, not a blue one
and was nothing like the one described in the song
but he had autumn leaves in his eyes
and to me he seemed like he carried
harsh winds and cold rain around
even mid-august, under the city sun.
He was my friend then
and Leonard Cohen was alive.

She had this rough, deep voice
singing about freedom and beauty and love
beyond the grave
singing to me for the first time
when I was at my loneliest
or screaming, rather,
and she once had stayed at the Chelsea hotel
and Leonard Cohen was alive.

Then there was this wonderful night
As if all the crowds were gone
and it was just the two of us
He was heartbreakingly handsome
My skirts were puffy as the clouds
We were determined to dance to the end of love
and Leonard Cohen was alive.

Heroes die, villains win, stories lie
We all change, then get set in our ways, get old
No, I am not getting tired of poetry
or the beauty and the strength of words
like hot tea with lemon and honey
soothing sore throats and broken hearts
I am getting tired of writing about lost things though
and just for today I wish that I could write about something nice
and that Leonard Cohen was alive.