I
woke
.
u
p
.
alone . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
a
n
d
–
–
–
far
away
.
f
r
o
m
.
home . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
woke
.
u
p
.
far
away
.
f
r
o
m
.
home . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
a
n
d
–
–
–
alone . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
The
miles
–
–
ahead
stretched
.
l
o
n
g
e
r
.
along
.
t
h
e
.
road
–
–
–
.
.
.
a
n
d
–
–
–
the
breath
.
o
f
.
time
began
.
t
o
.
s ~ l ~ o ~ w . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
~ yes,
there
were
.
l
o
n
g
e
r
.
miles
.
t
o
.
go . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
all
along
–
–
that
road . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
where
.
t
h
e
.
breath
.
o
f
.
time
began
.
t
o
.
s ~ l ~ o ~ w . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
~ where
.
t
h
e
.
breath
.
o
f
.
time
began
.
t
o
.
s ~ l ~ o ~ w . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
because
blow
.
a
f
t
e
r
.
blow . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
t
h
e
–
–
–
shadows
swallow . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
The
shadows
swallow . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
when
you’re
.
d
o
w
n
.
so
deep . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
~ when
you’re
.
d
o
w
n
.
so
low . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
The
shadows
swallow . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
The
shadows
swallow . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
s
o
–
–
–
blow,
.
a
f
t
e
r
.
blow,
.
a
f
t
e
r
.
blow . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
you
have
.
t
o
.
fight
.
f
o
r
.
every
mile
.
o
f
.
that
relentless
road . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
Blow,
.
a
f
t
e
r
.
blow,
.
a
f
t
e
r
.
blow . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
you
have
.
t
o
.
hope
–
–
even
when
–
–
time
begins
.
t
o
.
s ~ l ~ o ~ w . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
~ you
have
.
t
o
.
fight
.
f
o
r
.
every
mile
.
o
f
.
that
road . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
a
n
d
–
–
–
hope
when
–
–
time
begins
.
t
o
.
s ~ l ~ o ~ w . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
t
o
–
–
–
find
.
y
o
u
r
.
way
.
b
a
c
k
.
home . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
t
o
–
–
–
find
.
y
o
u
r
.
way
.
b
a
c
k
.
home . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
blow,
.
a
f
t
e
r
.
blow,
.
a
f
t
e
r
.
blow.
Reflection: Sometimes, when I travel, I reconnect with various music artists of the past. For some reason, Bruce Springsteen kept coming up on the Portugal trip I took in early-to-mid 2024. Much of his music has an honest reflective but melancholy vibe to it. That’s part of what I have loved about his music. I below poem came to me while listening to some of his music. I wrote it sort of as a tribute to Bruce.
While on my trip to Portugal, I was listening to various musicians I hadn’t heard in a while. One of those was Bruce Springsteen – I had forgotten how moving his music and lyrics were. So, I thought I’d try to write a second poem as a tribute to him while playing some of his songs in the background at low volume. The primary ones that I played to inspire the writing of this poem were: “Downbound Train” and “One Step Up.” I played these songs in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to these songs at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.