My simple, little Lee Oskar.  My constant friend.

She and her harmonica
sing wordless songs together,
songs of Old Yeller, songs of Big Red 
or songs of some jingleshoe feller instead.

Often....

A train whistle piece she'll try,
tumbleweed thistle, blue marble sky.
Sometimes she plays a haunting tune,
campfireside under fire opal moon.

And then….

she joins the children's dance.
She and her harmonica,
in her long ankle green dress.

For tens on tens of years she plays,
and blissfully her spirit pours 
clear up until, breathless
from her jouncey repertoire,
—        inout she breathes no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~