of my heart
with that familiar mix
of hope and fear,
knowing it would no longer
be just mine.
Reading the words,
I tried hard to hide
the tremor
Listening to them read,
I hoped no one would hear
the hammering of my heart.
She spoke into the quiet,
"It sounds like a ballad."
"Yes," a gentle voice replied,
"like a hymn."
The reel rewinds;
I sit on piano bench
waiting with that familiar mixture
of hope and fear
while she plays the notes
of the words I have written.
"It sounds like a hymn."
"If a bird has one song,
it sings it." she had said.
Perhaps He has given me a song.
my poetry workshop group
Linking to Emily's imperfect prose
Blessings,
Linda
