Squeezing twenty-six hours of work out of every day,
For his choices in life had come at a cost,
Now he swore to make amends and do right,
By himself, his family and his girl.
He lay down his tired self on the bed,
To exhausted for the meal she had prepared,
But his body couldn’t find the rest he was seeking,
For his spirit was famished and weak.
“Play for me, my love”, he implored,
So she retrieved the old twelve string from the corner,
Cradled on her thigh’ her fingers made love to the strings,
And she played for him soft and low.
The curtains danced in the window,
The music soothed his soul like a drug,
And his weariness faded like the notes on the breeze,
As he drifted away to sleep.