Autumn Leaves

Regardless of what people call me I am a romantic. I don't write or read much poetry, but I appreciate creativity.

I have a collection of love songs that has cost me a fortune. As I write this I am listening to “I’ll Go On Loving You” by Alan Jackson. I could cry. Just before this I heard “Autumn Leaves” by Nat King Cole. Not my favorite rendition, but good just the same. As I get older, I am more in tune with my love, my life, my wife, the one I refer to as “MW” on this blog.

All love songs begin and end with her.

There are two primal senses that do me great potential harm, and yet thrill me more than others. One is the sense of smell. Scents from my lover grab me by my balls, so to speak, like nothing else will. The other is more of a wide-spectrum interference: music. OK, music is not a primal sense, except when I limit my aural input to love songs. Holy Cow! I could die listening to some of these songs, and probably will with any luck. My list of songs is essentially endless. It spans styles, motifs, fashions, centuries, and so on. When I find one that is beautiful, I keep it so that I can play it again. That accounts for my extensive CD library.

Strangely, I don’t know when or where I find one that grabs me as I said before. It could be anything, anywhere. For example, “Wednesday’s Child” by Matt Monroe. It is just a silly theme song from a long-defunct TV series. Yet, it penetrates me like many of the others. By the way, I am a "Wednesday's child".

My computer goes on to play others. Right now it is playing “What Love Is” by Marty Balin. Damn, it’s good.

Then there are other memories brought back from my combat days by “Who Will Stop The Rain” produced by Credence Clearwater Revival. Not exactly a love song, but penetrating and memorable nevertheless. When all else fails, music will come through.