By Jim Farfaglia
Watching a Beatles Video
What makes it hard to hear today
is not that song’s continued beauty:
Paul plucking his guitar like a troubadour,
his opening lines whispered, like a prayer;
nor is it the strings, circling his melody,
wrapping it like a precious gift,
one he offered us long ago.
No, what troubles me most,
at this point of my journey,
with all the yesterdays I’ve collected,
is how hard it is to see, again, Paul’s face,
tender and lineless,
his clear eyes searching;
barely a single yesterday behind him.