A Spell Of Songs

Crying along to a story
A language she didn’t understand
Everyone threw him away
She took his hand
Songs of
Love and blood
And prison
Always prison
An accordion
He cradled
Handbells on a table
Music’s gift
A path out of loneliness
And a measure of comfort
Estranged from
His mothertown
Everything changed when the wall came down
A small apartment of possessions
Passageways for navigation
Coffee grinders, sowing machines
Radios and biscuit tins
Flowers for his birthday
Tears for his songs
Everyone threw him away
Everyone was wrong