When I was just a kid
I knew Mom was lonesome
A child senses things
That folks don’t realize
Mom has been a dreamer
A writer in the night
She was wed, but unloved
Just a servant for my Dad
She was not important
Except to kids like me
I think, somehow she knew
That this kid realized
She walked a world apart
Carried burdens no one knew
You could hear it in the night
When she played piano, all alone
The melodies she’d weave
Traced the heart’s path for her
And I’d follow in my mind
From my bed behind the door
When I should have been asleep
I had nights like this then
I guess I’m not surprised
To find myself at dawn
Listening to Mom’s lonesome
As the memories come back
Of when I was only six
And Mom was restless
God, how it would pull
My heartstrings, lying there
To hear Mom’s broken heart
Come through that old upright
As she played for God
Asking peace for her soul
As this shivering little kid
Listened in the darkness
Realizing what it was
Not knowing these big words
I put on paper now
The feeling hasn’t changed
She played piano then
And I write it down
‘Cause I can’t play piano…
-Karl Hansen, The Rustic Rhymer
