Music Lesson
Dad,
I want to break you out of here—
commandeer the ludicrous
toddler-pink wheelchair
and roll you over the salt-sprayed hills
where Camas choirs sing out indigo
hues, beneath your opus scribed
upon the dawning crimson blaze
you crave . . . like air
each laboured breath
a decrescendo
from this eighth-floor window
Copyright © Soulfire | Year Posted 2011
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