Born into a family, fifth of five.
We lived beneath the same roof for some time.
Then one by one we began dispersing,
and the last departure then was mine.
We set off for school, jobs and families,
with spouses and children of our own.
Now the passing of seasons dim memories
of a family, together, long ago.

They wed on a Baltic summer afternoon.
One year later the three of them were gone.
Westward heading, they began their journey,
sailing off into the unknown.
The path they shared then began to widen,
and one day it split into two lanes.
And tho they all traveled on together,
it never would return to one again.

Soon from the other side, will you hear me
when I play a passage meant to move?
Now my notes linger with sadness
as I de-tune and lose the groove.

Both of you were born on a Monday,
and from the first day you did things your way.
I watched you grow and become you,
and with your mother, helped you on your way.
Took such pride as you came of age.
My soul’s put at peace to see you two.
And now, tho you live in another place,
I never do feel apart from you.

Soon from the other side, will you hear me
when I play in a certain style?
And when there is a moment in your daydreams,
may the specter of my face look upon you with a loving smile.




Author: Eric Schuurman

Eat your vegetables.