A song for her
The riffs poured out of a french window,
Swollen fingers ached but kept at it,
After all it was his first concert for someone else.
The song slowly sculpted her lopsided smile.
Then its interlude gave birth to the sound of her laughter.
She filled up the room like a breath of fresh air.
And the lilies near his guitar started swaying to the tune of his fingers.
She sighed as the song took a darker turn.
And all her struggles flashed before his eyes.
Those inescapable nights when she ran from her alcoholic husband.
With him in her fragile but able arms, picking up her broken spirit.
And he ached in her lap to touch her face and tell her it’s going to be alright.
At last she had died with arms around his little body.
Protecting his mind from the hurt and pain that surrounded them.
And he grew up waiting for this one moment in life.
Finally the time had arrived where he would enliven her back into the world.
In an attempt to share her memory by hitting the right notes,
he would give her all the freedom that she had deserved for years.
This was a song he wrote knowing she’d travel the world in vignettes and records.