Self-conscience and shy she’s the singer.
Football T-shirt and jeans a quintessential dead ringer.
Of the awkward teenager, this beautiful word slinger.
Her pitch and timber dead on, her floating words linger.


On the air of her youth
Sung with uneasiness and truth.
Glancing at her father with her eyes
She has us all mesmerized.


She brought tears to my eyes.
Her untrained voice flies.
Giving it’s innocence not heard these days.
Hypnotic in it’s own ways.


Forgotten second verse, she fears.
Will fall on critical ears.
So she starts over again.
With the first verse when.


I notice that I hadn’t noticed
Paying heed to the lyrics was the remotest.
Thing from her performance
To her audience her conformance.


To see this young woman’s purity
For her music and her maturity.
She renews my faith in the young
All done with just the song she sung.


Dave Proffitt
2:10 pm.

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