Here's To The Night

In an old wooden workshop cluttered with sawdust,
She stands with brightly lit blue eyes, showing her trust,
And in his hand he holds the saw, making her toys out of wood,
For his baby girl with a freckled face, tired of being misunderstood.

And she holds his hand, with a smile across her face,
As she stands under the sun in her overalls and shirt of lace,
But in his eye, there lays a single golden tear -
Because he knows, a girl like her doesn't belong here.

And in his shirt pocket, right above his heart it lays,
The picture of him and her Mother, from better days,
But in his eyes, his heart beats faintly as he cries,
Because he knows, the memory of her love will never die...

Blonde hair sweeps over her shoulder blade as she stands,
Looking through the door of his old workshop, holding a wedding band,
And in her eyes, the pictures cloud - memories veiled in smiles,
But she holds her favorite one close, as she stands in denial -

For her estranged Father, sweet in his old age and liquored breath,
Didn't mean to run his truck off that old interstate to forget,
The love of his murdered wife and his kids that never could forgive him,
So he drank away his life, lying to the Priest telling him of his sins.

And as she holds his picture close to her trembling heart,
She closes her eyes and mutters to herself: "Here's to the part,
When I let go of the past, and do what he always thought was right,"
And with eyes bloodshot red she cries: "Here's to the night."

-Jenna Elphick
April 24, 2007