by Virginia Gaces

Created on: April 12, 2009

I stand astride your songs,
In pulchritude we join.
You with your mellow prongs,
I, with my open loins.

We earned each accolade.
Our fame is all aflame.
We feasted on the glade.
And wealth we too proclaimed.

Alas, it did not last,
As all would come to pass.
I sit here quite aghast.
You're now under the grass.

I grieve my painful past.
Our days that should have been.
I sigh and say Alas!
We never will be seen.

Oh, Elvis where are you?
I yearn each day for you,
Hopeful that you could play.
My strings again someday!

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