For the Birds


There was a time when he didn’t hide. A time when he sat in front of a crowd and performed for them. Now his only audience is the birds who are lucky enough to wander aimlessly by. Can they sense the dreams hidden in the notes he plays?

He still plays the songs he wrote as a young man. Songs about love. And loss. Of hope. And wonder. Songs from a time he still believed that all would work out, still believed that chasing a dream was enough to catch it.

Now, his dreams, like his songs, are only for the birds. Crushed under that weight of practicality. Of reality. His songs are an embarrassment. A symbol of his naivety and foolishness. He forgets that he once moved people to tears with the sound of his voice. That they rose to their feet when he finished.

He doesn’t remember how beautiful it was. And now, only the birds know.

Comments

  1. Mrs. HallMarch 3, 2019 at 12:46 AM

    Makes me think of growing old...I have many elderly people in my neighborhood. I wonder how many feel like the man in your story. Guess I should go find out..

    ReplyDelete
  2. tenkoranmaahMarch 3, 2019 at 1:02 AM

    A great reminder about the brevity of life.

    ReplyDelete
  3. JulietteMarch 3, 2019 at 1:21 AM

    Alex another thought-provoking piece. This phrase caught my attention-"Chasing a dream was enough to catch it." Is that what I believe? I wonder.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Marilyn MinerMarch 3, 2019 at 2:48 AM

    Straight to my heart.

    ReplyDelete
  5. UnknownMarch 4, 2019 at 3:52 PM

    Everything the other commenters said and made me think of my late grandfather who lead his own band forever, evolving the gigs to be age-appropriate. He told me towards the end of his life that giving up the stage was one of the greatest losses in his life. I think this piece captures everyone who's every known a loved a musician and watched their gift die before they did. Bravo, maestro!

    ReplyDelete

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