His Song

Her house smelled like sweat and lilacs. Sweat, because she has been pounding away on the piano all afternoon, in front of the sliding door as sunshine streamed through her screen. She loved to sing songs to Jesus, because sometimes she heard him singing songs to her. In the way the birds chirped, or the wind whooshed. And songs were more then sounds, but they were feelings. And oh did she feel his song more then ever. The way the sun beat on her shoulders, as her fingers tapped the keys, the way the oxygen filled and emptied from her lungs as her voice pierced through the air, and most of all, the way her heart swelled with inexplicable joy just thinking of him. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, and just listened to him play his song, and I promise you, it was the most beautiful song she had ever heard.