the tears, like that sky, were blue,

balmed in a constant, gentle stream.
Filled with achingly quiet strength, healing purpose. Vibrating with the tenor of a generation.

He carefully strung his violin with them, using the instructions in the back of the book he was holding.
A journal he had found in, of all places, the attic.

His beloved father’s journal.

Sigh. What a beautiful performance.


Featured image: my husband’s


      1. Reply

        I agree Vanessa it is a very powerful song and your response in your poetry was equally as powerful and thought provoking.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Reply

      I’m so glad, thanks for saying. That is what I was going for, I mean, this connection across generations…that his father understood, had been where he had been, and was passing on advice and love and understanding etc but not in words, per se.
      But I so enjoy the different ways people read things and what they get out of them.


    1. Reply

      Jen! Hi!
      Thank you, I am so glad you enjoyed it. Gosh, I love that performance. I was kind of stunned the first time I watched this.
      Oh the floor guys just showed up 🙂
      Thanks for stopping ❤

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Reply

      Jen, I just re read my response to you and I laughed… for people who wouldn’t know we know each other, it reads like I came up with a lame excuse not to chat haha


  1. Reply

    Your writing is so nostalgic, takes me to the warm winter morning where I am lying on ground covered with brittle leaves.. I don’t know why, but there was an air of sadness, I loved it…

    Liked by 1 person

hi. friendly banter is always welcome.

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