I remember your voice
clear and lovely as the small brook
that I had crossed on my hike up Sugar Hollow.
On a tired September night,
I crawled into your song, and
became a sunflower.
Friend, I cannot forget
the times that you gave up your lunch
to rehearse with me.
I cannot forget
the deft hands that understand piano keys
and the laugh that reminds me
of a star’s twinkle.
Friend, I know this time has not been easy.
Sometimes it seems that other ladies are skipping
on the sidewalk, while you are lying in bed,
waiting for the weakness to subside.
Friend, don’t forget
even during those low moments,
when you have to sit still or lie down –
you are still in the field of golden rye,
in the warm hands of the afternoon sun,
Your hair ripples in the wind, a mirror
of the golden sea that sway and shimmer.
Come, let us walk together in this field of golden rye,
Let us feel the wind brushing past our cheeks,
and take in its gentle whisper,
the whisper that says: don’t let go
*For Sarah Labriny
My friend is a beautiful woman of God, a gentle and kind soul, and an incredibly talented songwriter. Her songs can be found here