The day the music stopped
Smelled like a dragging cigarette died
And I couldn’t concentrate
I had painted the stars in the sky red,
Red as the blood of my father
As he laid on the floor
Red as the lips of my mother
As she kissed his face
For one last time, the breadth of love’s grace
I painted the stars red and inhaled the scent
But that day the music came to a grinding halt.
And I was at a loss.
I swallowed a poison, took a bullet to the chest
I hauled a suitcase that had to be unpacked
All because a piano stopped humming
The day the music stopped, I knew I was alone
And the burden rested solely upon me
It was time to fly, and then I came to learn
That holding on and letting go are one and the same
These are things I no longer wish to understand
Because the stars went back to gray
I was out of time for childhood.
Thank you very much for reading this poem, and please make sure to let me know your thoughts before you leave.