Could I Borrow One Tomorrow?

Could I borrow one tomorrow,
just one tomorrow please?
Could I borrow just one day...or even an hour
and live it filled with past memories?
Could I please see him on stage once more;
Smiling and happy as the instruments ring out the musical score?

Could I please stand at the Music Gate, filled with delight
And gaze at his beautiful face as his car comes into sight?
Could I speak to him and hear the southern drawl
As he pulls away saying, "See you all"?

Could I stand in line from dusk to dawn,
On the hard pavement or even the dewy lawn,
And buy another ticket to see the "Greatest" perform;
I would not complain about the weather; sunshine or storm,
Or the seating arrangement, the lighting or the sound.

If I could please borrow one tomorrow and once again look upon him spellbound.
Could I please feel his touch, just once more,
Like the last time he held my hand as I walked out the door,
Unaware that I was walking away from a dream and into forevermore?

Could I borrow just one tomorrow, just one tomorrow please
And live it to the fullest with my beautiful past memories?

Written by
Joan Buchanan West

The Sounds Of August

On August 16, 1977, we heard some things we had never heard before....
The sound of a tear as it rolled down our cheeks, falling gently to the floor.
The sound of eyelids closing in disbelief,
And pulses rushing, seeking relief.
We heard the earth stop: its rotation ceased;
The shock, felt to its core, could not be released.
We heard hands clasp in anger at the injustice of it all...
We heard our youth silently slip away as night began to fall.
We heard the sound of the future crashing around us; it had no place to go,
And we heard the sound of the heat as it crept in to wet our brow
and forbid the coming snow.
The sound of hearts breaking was that of a worldwide thunderstorm,
As we also heard the voice, that spoke, saying the news had been confirmed.
We heard our souls as they cried out: "Please, God, don't let it be true".
We heard our hurt as we clung to each other, you to me and me to you.
We heard the leaves from the Graceland Trees
as they settled softly to the ground..
And listened as the wind whispered, "He is no longer earthbound,
but, free as I, a prisoner no more;
as he walks in the golden light on God's celestial shore".
For we have heard the sound of Death as it crashed through the mansion walls
Waiting and shouting for the world to know he had come
for the greatest of us all.
We heard the dark cloud as it slid through the morning mist
As if, arrogantly, saying; "How dare you deny I exist".
All these things we heard: in memory hearing still
Reminding us our dreams of forever can never be fulfilled.
But, we also hear the silenced voice, so precious, so sweet, so dear;
For the sounds of Elvis Presley, now as before, will forever be near.

By: Joan Buchanan West

My Heartfelt Thanks to Joan
for granting me permission to use her Beautiful 'Elvis' poems!
Please send her an email!
and tell her Janie sent you.  :-)

~His death gave eternal life to a day:
August 16, 1977~


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