88

I sailed across the sea

Just daughters wife and me,

Took to the fields.

Fled a career

Building boxes for the dead,

It was killing me.

The culture around

As barren as the land

So I collected eighty eight keys.

The girls needed melodies,

And harmonies to dance to,

Maybe I did too.

Improving life

By risking it,

Maybe that boldness

Runs in the blood.

We all got thin that winter

But our minds ran thick

With music enriching.

I’d do it all again,

Trade my bacon for a duet,

And my ham for a ballad.

When coins slipped away

I brought the sow to town,

And traded her for music.

Worth it,

Every note.

– Vagabond Prophet

– In my dining room sitting to my left right now, is a piano that my great grandfather bought for his daughters after moving to Canada. He wanted music to be a part of their lives. He was making payments on it until he couldn’t, he decided trading their pig in to settle the debt was worth it. I don’t even know what they ate that winter.