I find myself once again struggling to fulfill my commitment to create out in the open. It really is messy and unflattering. But here I go with my first rough draft of a poem tentatively called Heart Song...
We were pulling into the driveway
when my little girl squealed with delight –
her “favorite” song had just come on the radio.
She has by my estimation a million favorite songs.
She asked me to turn the volume up.
I did.
I rolled to a stop and shoved the gearshift in park
and turned off the headlights and killed the engine
so I could hear her duet with Taylor Swift.
She sang with the abandon only a nine-year-old can do –
unashamedly and without pretense.
I marveled at how well she knew the lyrics
and leaned back and watched and soaked in the moment
like a sunbather sops up sunrays.
We all have those times in our lives when we just intuitively know
something special is happening – little moments worth a king’s treasure,
like when you hold your child’s hand or share the dawn with friends.
I knew this was one of those moments.
The cab was bathed in the soft blue light of the radio.
The music was loud and my little girl was singing her heart out –
and so was Taylor Swift:
“I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright
I go back to December all the time...”
We sat for a half hour or more,
huddled together in the cab of the pickup truck
under a cold, black-velvet December sky, listening to music and singing.
As time moves me away from here
I hope I’ll be able to find my way back to the cab of that truck
and find my girl there, singing her little heart out.
If I could
I’d go back to that December all the time.
Copyright 2011 Donald G. Redman All rights reserved
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