Re: Remember a Day

It was clear that his face was the sponge
soaking up the sadness
on stage. The man on the piano was foreign
now, which created lines
of stress with each line of poetry
said, and Gilmour didn't feel right without
Wright by his side. It had been 40 years
of musical telepathy,
40 years of migrating
around Europe,
40 years of
friendship, beer and grapes
when Rick became sick and couldn't make it to

the show, this stage that Gilmour
was sweating his depression on, strumming
his longing to. This was the first time David hasn't
laughed at the kids unable to keep up, the first
he hasn't turned to the keyboard to exchange
the grin only Rick could decode,
and though the stage of was drenched
in light, the darkness was apparent.

Without Rick's modest jazz,
David Gilmour's rock couldn't roll
and any hope of vintage Floyd is impossible,
but tonight was the night for tribute
to a vital piece of a timeless puzzle,
and the crowd, along
with Gilmour, was honored to grieve.