Quiet was not you.  Nor was song.

You were the world’s worst.

Never in time, couldn’t hit a note.

But you were so, so cute.

Wailing away as if you were Whitney.

That last month in Cedars, a volunteer with a guitar came in the room.

We both rolled our eyes and asked him to leave.

Then you felt bad and asked him for one song.

Five songs later, you and he were an impassioned but earsplitting duet

“…..Parsley, sage, rosemary, and tyme.”

One of the incomparable sounds of my life.

Only you knew I loved to dance.

I loved to dance with you.

A puzzle….

Your head on my shoulder for a slow dance

You were always out of step.

Your rhythmic abandon for a fast one.

Never out of step.

The faster the music, the more exquisite your motion.

One of the resplendent sights of my life.