I Can Hear The Music

I opened up her picture, a black and white,
her beauty and her grace,
and suddenly the mundaneness of my life
was staring me in the face.
In the stillness of that photo she looked like
an angel from a dream,
and suddenly the emptiness in my life
was more prevalent than it seemed.

Because I used to hear the music when I heard a newborn cry.
I used to hear the music when I saw an eagle fly.
I used to hear the music when the sun would start to rise,
but today I heard the music, staring at that picture of Rachael’s eyes.

I sat at the piano when I was barely five
And banging out a melody, my spirit came alive.
I left my music long ago with nothing left to say,
But with her picture upon those keys my hands began to play.

I used to hear the music when I heard a new born cry
I used to hear the music when I saw an eagle fly.
I used to hear the music when the sun would start to rise,
but today I heard the music, staring at that picture of Rachael’s eyes.
ryanbradley ryanbradley
46-50, M
Jan 6, 2013