The Child

The Storm has finished.
Now we sit here in sodden dresses
As colours arch the town. Blackbirds
Fly down for fresh food, life
Is calmly resumed, mine is not.
Childhood drawing a close I wish I could ease
The hurt, I wish I could protect you, I hold your hand,
Not wanting to let go, fearful
Of what lay ahead. Music will keep
Us both going, that sweet sound,
It will keep us going. I fear
Another storm is brewing but as a child I know you do not.