Dear John
by

Dear John, Dear John,

I heard that you’re gone.
And though I’ve barely met you
I still think it’s wrong
That I found out all about it
on the evening news
but you’re not to blame
‘cuz I could have wrote you.

I heard that I met you
when I was quite young
but I grew up knowing
the songs that you sung.
Perhaps you influenced me
more than any of us knew...
in the end I turned out
to be a poet like you.

Wherever you went
I know that you’re fine.
There’s whisky and smokes
and a whole lot of wine.
That angel from Montgomery
I guess finally came.
and now the angels in heaven
all sing with a twang.

Signed,
Little Angie

For John Prine October 10, 1946 – April 7, 2020

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