The Singer

I could hear his guitar from far

playing a song I heard him play before

I could hear his soft voice singing along

I knew the singer

I knew the song

I stood behind the door and listened

to the words I heard so many times before

I could hear his voice trembling with unshed tears

I could hear the pain in his voice echoing in my ears

Until I couldn't stand it anymore

I didn't knock when I opened the door

When I came in

The singer stopped singing

He put down the guitar

and wiped his face

He looked up at me

in his eyes, a silent question

one that only I could see

I held him close

in my embrace

He knew

I understood the singer

He knew

I understood the song

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