Never to see Sundays beauty,
Saturday’s glorious ending escapes your mortality,
As if god himself wrote jazz with natures glory to sing you home, Giving back to this land a fraction of the joy you gave to us, We watched you take life’s blows and sensed your pain, Splashed across a silvered screen and red top rag,
We have seen you struggle with the burden of celebrity, With every flash bulb blown at your merest of moves,
A talent so concentrated to be laid upon just one fragile soul, A human supernova,
Burned up, but all too quick,
From fresh and innocent sweet sixteen,
Sold to the world as the lamb to the slaughter,
It’s all about the money,
To be left to tread this tightrope of high wire life,
In absence of a safety net,
You wobbled and faltered,
Until you sadly fell,
Joining the exclusive twenty seven club,
Which people are just dying to get in to,
Will our tears dry on their own,
As we hear your harmonious tunes, The legacy you leave behind,
The greatest natural talent this world has seen, We linger here in the final frame,
As we falter to say goodbye.
Just one last encore,
Rest in peace.
This is a poem about Amy Winehouse. I first saw her on the Johnathon Ross show, i loved her voice, so pure. I bought her first album and just loved it, she had a voice, she was gone too soon, her second album was a cracking collection of tunes but lacked a little something from the first.