I hear her, Natasha, playing the piano, singing low, writing a song.
I sit in my study, pausing from the page, listening to her, high, sweet.
I’m trying to put her on the page, story about a boy and a girl in love,
And the strange world they find in the forest that was a childhood Eden.
All day we work at our different talents, our different worlds and dreams.
I smile and return to typing, the boy and girl having met an angel who has
Put down his flaming sword and allowed them into the world of wonders,
Where for the briefest of moments they will be pure light and absolutely free.
At the end of the day, as night falls, we’ll eat dinner and talk about our worlds,
The places we go that are only ours, and piecing them together as we can,
To show the world, to strum their night to see if any have ears that can hear,
Hear our dreams and loss, and seem themselves in our most secret, sacred light.