Relative Minor

Relative Minor

 

It’s true, music can be rewritten

and probably you’ll do it yourself,

when you learn that every major

has a relative minor to command,

so don’t fret about it too much.

 

You can take my guiding vocal

before going solo; a timed desert,

cast off, strike out, forge ahead:

like stabilisers when it doesn’t hurt

to fall anymore,

 

and summer spent in parks;

throwing bicycles of frustration,

more tumbles, flips and pratfalls

than Roberts Brothers.

 

Spitting out grass and gravel,

chewing mud, a discontented bullock

certain that cycling is not for him,

until, one day, finding paths we grin,

change up gears and soon begin.

 

Setting off; taller, fitter, stronger

perhaps, in need of me no longer,

this relative minor with attitude

and a stream of sharp sarcastic quips,

one-liners to leave me feeling flat,

all punctured tyres and backchat,

but singing love ballads for all that

if it comes down to it

 

and saving penalties to kicking balls

with some accuracy, shooting hoops

for fun and missing, makes me run

to leave my neck in need of tuning.

 

We’re strumming guitars, crooning

crumbs, taking curtain calls that bewitch

in showing which Peter Pan is which,

in those times when you astound me

from your head and from your heart,

you finish the riff you hear me start

throw your grin and crow.

 

Well journey from tenor to contralto,

and it’s you I’ll miss the most

as we cut out the same green cloth,

a Robin Hood in Sherwood moss,

one fires, one gathers on the stone,

but we will never be alone:

you place your bet and I will wager

that every minor has a relative major.