How Still the Strings

 

Sits the guitar upon its stand

awaiting player's gentle hand

to strum the chords and coax the songs

knowing well how it responds.

In silence now, how still the strings,

and yet, your words are echoing...

no one who’s loved is ever gone

in each of us, their song lives on.

 

We weren’t that close, you and I.

Not really, not in the scheme of things.

Though we knew each other all our lives,

you were always someone who

skated on the outskirts of my existence:

small town, same schools, mutual friends.

Eventually we both moved away

moving onward and outward to live life.

We would bump into each other

on those occasions when we were called back

to relive our high school memories;

or in those moments of mutual celebration or loss.

I never told you how much your kind words meant

during my own loss; how they felt like a warm arm 

around my shoulder; a gentle reminder 

that even in distance we are not alone.

No, we really weren’t that close, 

but in a sense you’ve always been there

somewhere on the edge, on the periphery.

Two kids who shared a certain kinship...

 

and I am better for the knowing of you.

© Ginny (Karpinski) Brannan 2024

Godspeed, my friend...