As I set on my dusty broke down couch,
I reflect on the passing of my Aunt.
Smoke lingers in the air as images of happier times race through my mind.
Times when we were all together laughing and celebrating life.
Billie Holliday fills the room with her silky, soulful voice.
No one knows sorrow like Billie.



The dancing flame from the candle casts a sinful glow across the dark walls.
The familiar scent of burnt cigarette butts reminds me that I smoke too much.
The first cool breezes, harbingers of fall, slowly make their way through the room.
Another summer has gone by, another loved one is lost.



The rocks glass full of whiskey sits on the end table waiting to ease my pain.
The ice cubes rattle in the glass like skeletons from my past.
The cry of the trumpet cuts through the room as Billie passionately sings "Solitude".
As always, Billie knew how I felt.
The whiskey whispers my name.
Regret enters my mind.



Thoughts of my Aunt fill me with despair.
Her pain is finally over, but mine has just begun.
Sirens scream from the outside the same way I scream from within.
The regret of the call never made drags me further into despair.
The ice in my whiskey glass subtlety melts away like life passing by.



The dancing flame from the candle has lost its rhythem.
The orange glow of my last cigarette slowly fades.
Billie ends her set in this lounge of sorrow, leaving behind a pain that permeates the room.



Author: Jonathan (My Brother)