An Arkansas flag and a guitar pick cut from a bank card.
Two dozen weathered drum sticks bunched in a fish bowl.

Let me say, I wasn’t a fan until that night I saw your smile
Emerge like ivory in the blue light at a Midnight Ramble.
Very few must have known how close you were to the end.
Once you sat at your drums the roadhouse blues resumed,
Not a lick out of tune, perfect, too perfect for me, but your
Smile hovered like an angel wiser than I was, light-winged,

Grandfatherly, as freely given as candy, undaunted by age,
Ready to be shared wherever the winds of the heart blew.
After the show it wasn’t yet midnight, but I didn’t linger. I
Ventured out to follow my headlights as wide as your grin.
Everywhere else the black forest swallowed the starlight.