February 3rd's ghostly tune.

On February 3rd, of this year

the idea of sleep will horrify me.

I'll be visualizing a terrifying sight

I know will haunt me as it has

for years. 

There'll be a whistling breeze. 

Then, with its eerie melody, 

a voice will come fleeting by. 

His southern drawl will be 

unmistakable:

"You say you're gonna leave, 

you know it's a lie 'cause 

that'll be the day that I die."

The recurring words echo each year

orchestrated as notes playing

to a troubled, sputtering engine 

descending above the cornfield.

Sweat will form on my face. 

A trickle will run down my cheek.

My bed will feel like a tomb.

Panic will set in

there'll be a quick series

of sickening thuds

then, like it always does

the music will die--

in the cold, silent, snow.

Author's Note

On February 3, 1959, rock and roll musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson were killed in a plane crash near Clear Lake, Iowa, together with the pilot, Roger Peterson. The event later became known as "The Day the Music Died", after singer-songwriter Don McLean so referred to it in his song "American Pie".

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Day_the_Music_Died

Reviews

[Sharon L.H. Kelly]

A haunting and poignant write. My interpretation is of a man (perhaps a father and/or husband), suddenly passing away.

[Relic]

You're basically right Sharon. If you click on the picture it should make it a little more clearer.
"I can't remember if I cried, when I heard about his widowed bride..."

[Sharon L.H. Kelly]

Oh wow! Now I truly understand. And just when I wonder what more can possibly be written about legions such as him, you come along with this brilliant piece. Kudos!

[Relic]

Thanks very much Sharon.