Son, my youngest babe,
Chords you remembered to play
Songs you wrote of a broken heart
Mom was there from the start.
Your sight is fading, your soul is strong
Music fills your insides all day long
Play a little, pick the strings, this vision of you
Plucks my heart strings.
You pick and glide the ivory’s
Each chord or note you learned by ear
Eyes are not what they use to be
But I hear your song, each and every year.
I can sit for hours as your mom
Be proud of how you have come along
Your long fingers pick sweet strings
I can’t sit still want to sing.
Your sight will get weaker
Your heart will stay strong
Words will come from your soul
You know it won’t be long.
Your sight will go with this disease
Your ears will bring you notes you will hear
Memorize and mimic what you hold dear
Pick up your guitar if it makes you at ease.
FEATURED IN-THE WORLD AS WE SEE IT-group-12/02/09