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With that curiously distinctive rumble,

the soft prelude to its heartbreaking guitar,

heralding the advent of something untoward,

the song already has you enraptured.

 

When that fragile, delicate voice,

supremely uninsistent,

floats its own refrain above,

ethereal yet down to earth, intimate

as a whisper in a lover’s ear,

you covet the serene wistful self-possession

of the singer content to remain apart.

 

His casual unprotesting outsiderness,

an only slightly sorrowful

resignation to the role of onlooker,

like a barely audible sigh from a neglected friend,

touches you with its unspoken yearning.

 

It’s so beautiful it makes your throat hurt,

like when you want to cry

but the tears won’t come.

See here for a poem on ‘Yo-yo’.

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