I met you, <br />sweet prince, <br />on Christmas night <br />in the Choir of Hard Knocks. <br /> <br />You fascinated me, <br />reminded me <br />of another Simon <br />much like you. <br />A long-haired loner <br />who loitered <br />for years <br />by the river <br />of my childhood. <br />Who strummed his guitar <br />and talked to himself <br />and frightened the tourists <br />with their fat wallets. <br /> <br />I watched you sing <br />your Halleluja, <br />standing tall <br />on the Town Hall stage. <br />The words in your hand <br />shook uncontrollably, <br />the tremor in you voice, <br />you just kept at bay, <br />But the light in your eyes <br />flooded the room: <br /> <br />'And even though it all went wrong, <br />I'll shout before the Lord of Song <br />with nothing on my tongue but Halleluja. <br />Halleluja, Hallelujah, <br />Halleluja, Hallelujah.'<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/simon-s-hallelujah/
