He sang her close
She tagged along to hear him play
He paused and stuggled with the chords,
His fingers just got in the way
A beat up, banged up ol’ guitar
He’d bartered for that day,
He sang her close.
He sang her sweet
Just loud enough so she’d pretend
That she had other things to do
Like some ol’ tattered shawl to mend.
And by the dawn of autumn days
Their love had grown in quiet ways
He sang her sweet.
He sang her back,
When he’d regretted things he’d said
And she had tried to hide the tears
And turned away from him in bed
That ol’ guitar was there
So he reached for it instead
And sang her back.
A bridge to bind the strings
A bridge to tie the song
A bridge to keep them close
The tune played on and on
On and on…
He sang her home,
For there was nothing else to do
And photographs told of a life
With laughing children running through
She sighed, “I’d love to hear a song”,
Then whispered “love you too…”
And his tears fell
As he held her close
And softly, softly
Sang her home.
He sang her home…