Anne’s Song
A Free Verse Poem
You have always kept your songs close,
Quiet as sunrise tucked behind evening curtains,
Shy – embarrassed, you say –
Afraid the melody might stumble,
That your voice might stray from the path,
That the world would hear you sing
And think the tune misplaced.
But I have listened,
Not only to the notes,
But to the hush between them,
To the sweetness that lingers,
Soft as the snow that falls in February,
Gentle as your fingertips tracing mine,
The way your laughter carries
Across the kitchen,
How your hope glimmers,
Even now, even here.
Your voice, for me, is not out of tune
But perfectly imperfect,
The music of life etched in fragile gold,
A song only angels could know,
And soon, when silence comes,
I will listen still,
For yours is the voice
I’ll forever hear in dreams.
Anne, facing the final chapter of her journey with cancer, often jokes that she’s tone deaf and sings out of key, her voice wobbling uncertainly as she tries to follow melodies. She’s convinced that her musical ability has faded, or perhaps never truly existed. Yet, when she closes her eyes, memories from her childhood in rural Czechoslovakia return with surprising clarity – a time when song was woven into the fabric of everyday life. Amidst rolling hills, dense forests, and the bounty of wild mushrooms, Anne’s family, along with villagers, would join together in song while tending to domestic chores, fields, and gardens, their voices rising in harmony above the landscape, echoing through the seasons.
Those songs, shared among the community during chores and celebrations, were more than music; they were expressions of joy, unity, and tradition. Anne remembers the laughter, the warmth, and the comfort of singing together, even if she now doubts her ability. Despite her self-deprecating remarks, the melodies from her homeland still linger within her, a testament to the ways music can bind hearts and memories, even as the body falters. In her recollections, Anne’s voice blends perfectly with the chorus, proving that sometimes, the truest harmony is found not in pitch, but in shared experience and love.
My beloved Anne has often quoted the first four lines of the Beatles song “With a Little Help from my Friends”* whenever she feels anxious about singing flat or out of tune. Despite her worries, I’ve always felt that, together, we are perfectly “in tune” in every sense. To me, Anne’s voice is nothing short of angelic; whether she’s speaking or singing, it fills my world with warmth and harmony that no note or melody could ever match.
*What would you think if I sang out of tune?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song
And I’ll try not to sing out of key…
“With a Little Help from My Friends” (originally titled “A Little Help from My Friends”) is a song written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, released on the Beatles album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band in 1967.
If you feel like keeping track of Anne’s cancer journey, I’m chronicling it in prose and poetry here:
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/news/
Your friend,
Robert
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/
