Don't pity me for she'll not stayI needed something to snap me back to place, and here it is. An audible signal. A droning intonation bent on the melody formed by the wind whistling through his motives, threading a story that is watertight. So watertight it floats on the tide, back into my hands before being drawn out again, unreachable, only to come back in again, close enough to touch.
She scorned my love and turns away
Farewell my love for all I've done
By the setting of the sun
Farewell my love of yesteryears
We roll upon the tide
Tomorrow's day should lead the way
And life begins tonight
Lochlan is learning the song, and in between his efforts he pulls me into his arms, stripping us both of our disguises, our false fronts, taking us back to blood and bone, to rhyme and reason, to grit and grift.
Aye, Peanut. This is not so complicated. We have the music, the sea, each other and...PJ to get the groceries.
And Ben to keep our heads above water.
Indeed. The mood flattens in time to the end of the song, and he begins again in earnest, head down against the wood of the guitar for several minutes while he worked at the tune with diligence.
Lochlan-
Bridget, if we have a dance every now and then and a roll in the clover and a good long hug and enough firewood for the winter, our babies are close, we've got each other and our friends are nearby then I consider it a good life.
What about the Devil breathing down your neck?
I swear on my life it wasn't my neck he was breathing down. I'm going to call it the cost of being civilized and a good chance to keep him in line and otherwise I don't want to think about it any further. Tonight is for music. And the sea. And each other. Alone. Together.
Don't forget the clover.
Oh, believe me, I haven't.