68/365

hey dad, “look what i learned.”
she strums a ukulele and sings a folk song.
the other one hones a riff she’s caught
like a melodic disease
on the lost guitar
i restrung over the weekend,
which is now her’s and lives in her room.

that’s six guitars and a ukulele in the house.

back to the first one,
playing an arpeggio on the keyboard.
we might need a mandolin or
an old french music box.
hard to imagine the sounds
one can make
without the instruments at hand
to make them.

“time for bed.”
“one more song please.”
“i want the lights off in five minutes.”
the last song takes the tiny stage of her bed.
i let her play it a few times,
because i do not underestimate
the weight of a quiet song
sang softly to oneself.

in the living room,
the day’s been long
tending to other people’s children.
i tend the ledger of my own parenting
hoping i’m in the black.