“Sing me a song,” she said.

I so wanted to please;

To be worthy of this strong, frail person

Whom I held in such high regard.

So I opened my mouth to sing

And made myself vulnerable to her.

There came forth a horrid, cacophonous sound

As of a hundred violins out of tune

(The screaming strings of Mantovani, gone berserk)

With bassoons belching,

Trumpets blaring,

And Tubas blatting.

To say nothing of the occasional odd clarinet

With reed so soft, it was like the buzz of a kazoo.

Embarrassed, I closed my mouth.

…………………………………….

I looked at her; she was beaming.

“What?” I asked.

“It was wonderful,” she said.

“My ears heard a rainbow of light

And a melody that touched my soul

And caressed my heart with kid gloves.”

………………………………………..

Who is to say which ears heard right

And which heard everything wrong.

Enough it was that she was listening

And that she heard my song.