looking through the glass.
There he saw his only daughter,
walking,
hand in hand,
with his soon to be son-in-law.
She couldn't see him though,
maybe that was for the better.
Their hands were swinging,
swinging, swinging,
to a rhythm he couldn't hear.
They were talking,
laughing.
Not like she laughed with him.
The soon to be son-in-law kissed his daughter.
She kissed him back.
It was for the better that she didn't know,
her father was watching.
He pushed a flower behind her ear,
running his hand through her vibrant hair.
It was a daffodill.
She loved daffidills.
It was twilight.
The pair of them were sitting on the garden swing,
rocking, rocking.
Once he had rocked with her,
On that swing,
When she was young.
It looked like they were sleeping,
Taken in by the beat,
The music,
The rhymth,
And the rhythm.
That he couldn't hear.
He opened the back door,
Creak.
And walked up to the swing,
Still, rocking, rocking.
He petted his daughter's hair.
She opened her eyes,
Flutter.
He thought she would be angry,
But she wasn't.
She just smiled.
The next morning she,
didn't remember any of it,
But Arthur did.
Soon it was the wedding day.
And the soon to be son-in-law,
Became,
The son-in-law.
And Arthur's only daughter,
Came up to him.
She talked with him,
Laughed with him,
Like they used to.
And then he heard it.
Music,
Not the wedding waltz,
The orchestra was playing,
It was steady,
A beat,
A rhythm,
A rhymth.
It seemed to be saying,
"I love you!"
The glorious music,
Wonderful music,
Sweet, gentle music,
Ginny's Music.