You were the notes on the page
The notes and the chords
Curly-Que’d reminders red penned in margins
Begging BREATHE
Slender painted fingers mirrored on the fall of a
nine foot black baby grand,
taught me to trust the noise from my body
Could be music
pulled room-spinning resonance from my
Shy sixteen year old frame.
As nervous Doc Martens perched
on an ornate maroon Persian rug,
threads of worn denim mingled
with those from other worlds.
And unknown words in other languages teased
my tongue when you were near.
You were the light in the corner
The amber-soaked pages
and the sounds of their swift turnings.
You were all the music in the room.
All the music in the world.
You were the notes on the page
The notes and the chords
You are the light in the corner
And all the music in me.
For Deborah Dunn Rumble
3 comments:
Isn't it wonderful we can take trips in our mind visiting memorable people and events in our lives. Wouldn't it be even more mystifying if perhaps to think that those special people who are no longer with us look down on us and smile. I just know she is looking down on you with utmost pride in you and what you have accomplished in your life, from a nervous young lady with aa desire in her heart to a caring accomplished woman.
Thanks Lynn, you are too sweet.
Deborah was a high school classmate of mine. She was blessed with a fine natural voice and with great discipline and training turned it into a thing of true beauty. With the blessings that she then possessed, she strove to pass that on to others. How fortunate you are to have worked with her.
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