um hi. you may not know whats going on. and i feel bad for not explaining but I don't think you realy need the compleate context to get the story. And if you do(!!!) I'm compleatly willing to add more, so comment!
It Was Written...
Something I had to get out for today. not the best I've ever done but i think it's really sweet.
He used to say he saw me across a crowded room and knew that I was the one. I didn't believe him. I thought, sure, that's sweet but it couldn't be true.
The first night we spent together I remember wakening up to his soft kisses and he told me I was the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.
I knew that was a line. Beautiful women threw themselvesat him.
None of that ever mattered so much though.
He adored my daughter. He took me with him everywhere. He wrote me love songs. I'd never felt so special the first time he sang to me and that feeling never got old.
Up and down we went. Fighting like cats and dogs but making up like children. Wounds healed with soft words and a gentle touch.
Together we stood, sometimes with our backs against the wall. Bad press and tragedies took their toll but I was there for him. I think that's why he's standing so firm for me. He's being the strong one. And it breaks my heart to know that he may have to carry on alone.
But that's not something I dwell on.
We are together now. He's reading at the kitchen table and I'm cooking dinner. If you peaked in on us you would believe we are ordinary. And in most ways we are.
Thunder rolls and I open the window just a crack.
I love the smell of rain.
'It's a bit cold outside don't you think?'
'If you don't like it, go start a fire.'
He puts down his book and stretches, 'I think I might have to anyway, with this storm.'
The lights flicker. Spooky.
'I think that's a good idea.'
It is. I end up fixing dinner in the living room over the fire.
He sit's curled up on the couch. That ever present guitar is cradled in his arms and he plucks away. The chords and notes giving in to something beautiful.
'I will hold you.' he mumbles pulling out a pad and paper scribbling furiously oblivious to me watching him.
He looks up, gives me a grin and a wink and continues writing.
Maybe not completely oblivious.
My stir fry done, I tap him on the shoulder. 'Can it wait till after we eat?'
He looks at me and then down at his work. 'Yeah...Then you wanna hear it?'
He's always so shy with his music. Something I've never completely understood.
'Yes. Of course I do. What's it about?'
'You.' He puts down his guitar and pulls me close. 'I love you Lin.' He murmurs in to my hair and I know without a doubt that he does.
