Mr. Cohen

Leonard, you are no longer present, nor prescient,
I still hear your baritone soothing, ever present.
the sisters did not accompany you to the tower,
they still sing your phrases, share your power.

awaiting your muse, the guitar is in tune,
ready for the anthem, the guitar is in tune.

Leonard, are you now ever in the arms of Marianne
fedora on the bed post, frost on the window pane,
Hank singing, pure of voice no longer with a cough,
with a song of adoration, was it ever really enough.

awaiting your muse, the guitar is in tune,
ready for the anthem, the guitar is in tune.

Leonard, are you the aged Chelsea cat now at rest
smiling, getting head, from all of the so very best.
or in the back seat of a Mercedes Benz in a park
no one knows with certainty, we are all in the dark.

awaiting your muse, the guitar is in tune,
ready for the anthem, the guitar is in tune.

Leonard, you are the voice that echoes in my ear
each and every day, I sing Hallelujah without fear,
but you must know that I will neither switch nor fight
’Cause in the end, we’d rather hear you in the light.