He Sang

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.