With silvered streaks
Scattered on aging strands
Framing her delicate face.
Aren’t you the blue eyed child
Who would not stop singing
No matter where she was,
No matter what they said or did? Wait. WAIT.
You remind me of that hungry teen
Asleep with a six stringed friend
Balanced on her belly, moving to the beat
Of her own rise and fall rise and fall rise and fall. WAIT. Wait.
Wasn’t that you who saw
God like a dervish
Whirling a golden pool of crackling power,
Touching all of life? You look so familiar.
Will you sing? she asked.
Amazing Grace floated up like mist.
Tears flowed down
Like streams in the hills.
The woman kissed two fingers,
Pressed them to the nose, holding steady there
In the glass, whispering