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I heard my brother sing.
He almost tiptoed to the mic.
He barely was seen
with a rose riding his lapel.
I could hear behind me
shoulders rubbing
and breathing whispers
and inhales that stopped short.
Then fingers stepping
and sliding on a guitars neck.
Then fingers pulling on
six strings like upon a heart.
He held the microphone
like he was holding her hand.
Then the back of her head,
a snow covered veil,
slightly tilted toward him
with a full body smile.
Her wonder was evident
from any angle.
And he sang from deep
understanding which at
that moment only they
embraced.
He brought love,
tested love to her
with humble inflections.
She brought love,
tested love to him
with a heart which
knew this song intimately.
And for a moment
I heard four part
harmony.
Gerald the Writer 