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Writer's pictureMia Kelly

The Death of Penny Lane


She came early with the rain

Her sunglasses hid the hecklers

She left early – just the same

You’ll feel her between the grooves of black records

She’s not in the crowd

She’s the music’s tortured sound


See how the Lady commands the starry room

See her spinning in the sky

They all knew her name –

She’s with the band they’d say

See her through puffed smoke

Reviving threads that frayed

Singing a tune that only she knows

The club had cleared

But she’s still here

Drinking in the echoes

Forgot to keep her “cool”

She fell in love with the moon

His eclipse – temporary

He lost sight of true exemplary

Tired of being used

Done with “cool”

She set off with a new name

& left her sunglasses for me

Far removed from the galaxy

She’s real – real cool

See her in a faraway city now

Humming her own tune

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