metamorphosed from round cheeked child
to buzzing teen, glitter of invisible wings
as he flicks a switch, filling his room with music
no one has heard but him : layers taut and shining
uncoil, weave, bounce. Live
because of him. Sunshine in a glade
once stillfull of Winter. I know
nothing - my lodestone is U2 - yet I can feel
this euphoric guitar "It is good, no it is brilliant!" His shoulders relax
like fireworks released in the dark silence
of the wall between their rooms
and I leave him trying to do percussion for it, not his thing
sit alone, memories of his begging to understand
how to fix what broke, me trying to explain
"he is growing, like you"
this is not a present I can snap back, resew or secretly buy another, new
but minutes later he comes through, incandescent, "He likes it!
He wants to do the drums!"
and the air is wreathed with joyful minds
joining, their song's pulse our home's heart beating again