” Dedicated to a teacher,

   who loves music.”

    Yu/stan/kema

 

A SONG FOR MOTHER.

The boy entered 

His Mother’s bedroom,

To watch her fall asleep.

It was for the very last time.

He softly started to weep.

Her face was a pale-yellow.

Her eyes were filled with pain.

He remembered

Her full of laughter.

She would dance

With him in the rain.

She would talk to him

So sweetly,

In the old, red rocking chair.

She’d hold him close to her,

And leave a kiss in his hair.

She’d sing to him

In the moonlight;

Pointed with him,

At the stars;

She’d label the sounds

Of the night; and

Catch lightning bugs

In a  jar.

 

She taught him

How to love music,

How to play

An old violin.

They both would

Travel towards heaven

On the notes

They held within.

He could see now

She was weakening.

She pointed

At the closet door.

He ran to get

The instrument,

That she was

Looking for.

He cradled the violin,

And felt his fingers fly, 

As he played with all his soul,

Brahm’s Lullaby.

Her face was filled with joy

As her soul started to rise.

She was proud of his music

As she entered paradise.

When he put away the score,

He thought he heard her say:

“When you hold your violin,

I’ll be with you, as you play.”

Yu/stan/kema