Overture

Memories of you flow into an overture
Filled with themes and swelling melodies.
Quiet moments and crashing cymbals,
I can't think of you without music
Running as a background
Through my head.

When you sang quietly,
You didn't have the technique of some,
Or the knowledge of others,
Or the repertoire,
But in those beautiful notes
Lay all the wonder of my childhood.

And when you opened your throat
You filled the hall with power,
Vibrating the window panes,
Making me shiver,
Rooting your listeners to their seats.

Generous payment
For my playing,
That thrill was mine -
Audience of one -
Hearing you sing.