Her life is like a song
Every era a verse.
Some right and some wrong
But every note is hers.
Conceived in a cold and chaotic world
Music warmed her soul.
It filled her when she was empty
And will make her feel young
Even when she gets old.
She fell for disco, when they were both young and fresh
It made her heart dance the best.
She’ll clean her house to it still today
Because it helps her clean the cobwebs away.
Her mind and soul always ran on music.
It fueled her heart when all was lost.
Thawed her out, when she was covered in frost.
Work was always there, from day one.
Inescapable. Both taught from youth and in her genes.
It made her dependable, self-reliant, independent, and, sometimes, mean.
But it gave her song a rhythm, a beat.
And drove her machine.
Her song changed, as did she, as the years slowly passed.
The disco and country melded with hard rock and big hair bands.
She raised her children, and her husbands,
Trying hard to juggle all the problems that they had.
Even when she struggled, and the mood of the music changed,
She kept writing a new verse.
She needed to sing.
Even when things got worse.
Her song, even when dark, is hers alone.
She sang it, and her music played, long before she was a Stone.
I hear her sing now, so sweet and so mean.
Especially on Saturdays-the time that we clean.
And I know she’s beautiful
To my good eye and old ears
And I know what she’s been through over the years
But her song is her life
And there’s joy in her tears.
Happy Birthday, Laura Gail!
Thank you for letting me be a part of your song.
God Bless Y’all.
Rolling Stones 