Curt Joa, Singer Songwriter


Unfinished Songs



The house was never warm enough right after her husband died

She would walk around in her coat all day thru the emptiness inside

Just a couple months ago he was standing right over there

But he had blown away like the cottonwood and she didn’t know to where.


He had always been the one to handle their affairs

But now that was all up to her if she could just get down the stairs

So she was putting papers into piles all across the basement floor

When she noticed some old cardboard box she didn’t remember from before 

Full of cocktail napkins and paper scraps, and it did not take her long

To realize that there inside were his unfinished songs. 


He had always wanted to be a songwriter, but it was a distant dream

Oh he would play for her if he finished one, but they were few and far between.

Looking now at this box so full, had she been that out of touch

To know that he was writing with no idea how much? 

But she remembered now he once told her how their position would be strong

If he could only get fifty cent for each unfinished song. 


In a verse about a lonesome walk, she heard footsteps out on the deck

In a line about his trembling breath, she could feel it down her neck

She could hear his voice and touch his skin and she was almost sure

When she read the words “Forever Love” he forever was with her


Oh his mind could go from place to place and he could leave his songs undone

Never would become a star but he had been her morning sun

And they say that it’s a good idea to finish what you start

But there was something in those unfinished songs that got into her heart 

He had left her on a winter night but it would not be so wrong

To say that he come back to her in those unfinished songs.


Life goes on and so does she, it’s a little struggle every day

But the world is little struggles and she’s okay, okay

She remembers him thru her photobooks and his letters in the drawer

And his suit still in the closet and his shoes there on the floor 

But it goes beyond remembering, it’s like he isn’t even gone

Every time she opens up that box of his unfinished songs.