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