And he loved this song
He was barely eighteen.
I was barely old enough to know how young that was.
I had an Elton John songbook. He had a favorite song.
It was also our song.
**it's a little bit funny this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide**
His mother had an old upright piano in the den
I had a lot of time in those days.
So for hours we'd play Bingo. Going over letters and sounds. Letters and sounds. Letters and sounds. What the epilepsy didn't steal from his mind, the medication took the rest.
**So excuse me forgetting but these things I do / You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue**
And then I'd play for him a song he thought was his very own. "For Bobby" it was written, just under the the title in my now-yellowed sheet music book of the seventies. He made me sing every word. Every time.
No matter how many times he heard it, I must I must I must sing it again. Again. And again.
**it may be quite simple but now that's it's done
...I hope you don't mind. I hope you don't mind that I put down in words.
How wonderful life is while you're in the world**
It was hard to say no to a boy with brown eyes and kisses so sweet
on my cheek
on the bench
of bingo-strewn love
and tunes made of blue
on out-of-tune keys
keeping out-of-time time
**Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen**
I can't sing it today - or hear it - without thinking of him. When I get to the part....
**and you can tell everybody this is your song**
I still break down and cry
Oh I knew he was leaving.
He knew it too.
But we sang
I don't play it much anymore
or open the songbook
But one day
I will play it again
Just to see him smile
as he did in those days
when he still believed the world was wonderful
when he couldn't remember his name
or which letter comes after C
but how young eighteen really was
and that his name
**My gift is my song and.....this one's for you.**