84. I miss Asheville

Megan and I got to spend a couple days in Asheville. I didn't get to see nearly all the people I'd wanted to, nor spend as much time with those I did see as I'd have liked. Such is the way of things, I guess.

The whole visit was like this face.

 But get this: okay, you know that band Asia? You know their song "Heat of the Moment"?  Just in case you don't:

Now. What I discovered is that this song's verses (not the chorus, mind you) are in iambic pentameter. Do you know what this means? It means that, in the same way that you can sing Amazing Grace to the tune of Gilligan's Island, you can sing any sonnet to the tune of Heat of the Moment.

Go ahead. Sing Amazing Grace that way for a moment. Then sing tonight's sonnet to Asia's melody.

We made our way, returned to Asheville town

wherein lie memories to which I cling.

It slipped right on, a still-fits wedding gown;

we crashed two nights with Andrew and Ms. King.

The clock turned back, yet newly wound as well,

we toasted all the things with which life's laden,

then ate with Dan and Jess in forest dell:

our hosts had rendezvous with Iron Maiden.

I got to see old roommate Shannontron,

and Blunutt: friend from storied days of yore.

So when from Asheville time came to be gone,

I wept (inside) for want of two weeks more.

'Twas Wolfe who said you can't go home again;

it seems the home he spoke of lacked a friend.

I really miss that place.