This is perhaps my favorite picture of Nick. This is the one that will be tattooed on me in some form or another one day. Yesterday was his birthday. He’d be 68. I’m having a lot of trouble believing that. It’s almost inconceivable.
Nick Drake, 68.
It sort of rhymes, doesn’t it?
Anyway, as is tradition, I wrote him a poem. As the vestiges of the day slowly disappeared, I rushed to write it. Who knows why. It’s not like I get a special fan award for remembering him 42 years since his demise. Still.I guess it’s the thought that counts (although it isn’t even good).
I also realized today that he was born right around the summer solstice. Music takes over the world every year two days after his birthday. I think that’s quite poetic.
… enough dilly-dallying, here’s the poem. It is based at the same spot where the photo was taken.