Come and Sit

He would sit on his porch on mild evenings and always
Sing the same song. His was a voice rasped by a lifetime of Marlboros
 
But there was something about hearing Red River Valley
After the madness of the day that eased me, like church used to when I was a boy.
 
So I would sit on my porch and he would sing next door and I
Would weep in the sweet dusk for the ones I should have loved better but did not.
 
His hymn drew my sorrows out and slowly, service by service,
I bid despair adieu and found fond hope to try at love again.
 
 
 

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5 Comments

  1. Gwen Acres on April 11, 2015 at 2:12 pm

    Thank you for the tender word picture…

  2. Elizabeth Templeton on April 11, 2015 at 2:47 pm

    Philp Glass has said that “music is a place”. Your neighbor took you there.

  3. pastordt on April 11, 2015 at 6:08 pm

    It’s remarkable what music can do, especially music sung from living. Thank you, John.

  4. Michele Morin on April 12, 2015 at 5:40 pm

    That melancholy tune.
    Resolved today to “sit by the side” of my loved people. What a simple, sweet way to say love.

  5. Jody Collins on April 16, 2015 at 4:11 pm

    I remember learning that song as a child in elementary school. I believe I’ll be humming it all day. Your words paint the most vivid pictures.

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