Layla

LAYLA

The sound of the guitar riff

breaks through the silence,

and in its repeated figure,

the musician’s broken heart

accentuated in two octaves.

Unrequited love dominating

the Top Forty, who knew

that a broken heart could

generate such popularity?

“La Fille au Bouquet” the

unattainable Blonde

adorns this album  of

love song despondency

wrapped within twelve bar

blues, written by seekers

blinded by love. Song

after song, brilliantly

played, voices of heartache

bring the listener, slowly,

painstakingly to a

climax of male anguish,

knowing that the interplay

of voice, guitars, keyboards

and drums, no matter

how brilliantly executed

would not be able to sway

the mind or the heart

of “La Fille au Bouquet.”

Captivated, the music

draws me into its

angst, love at its

most tortured. During

this Summer of ’71,

I, one among your

many suitors, hope

beyond all hope for

an outcome much

different than that

of the song’s

tortured musician.

You come by in the

evening to visit me as

I make my circular

rounds in the mall,

holding in your hands

this album of songs,

yet unheard in its

entirety by you, a

present to me, a

sign of your affection

and friendship. I

accept from your

hands with a

mixture of love,

gratitude and

trepidation this

song assortment

of forsaken love

hoping that in its

acceptance, I am not

dooming myself

to the same fate.

© 2015. Deacon Bob Wagner OFS. All rights reserved.