Je T’entends (I Hear You)

(Jon softly, almost as if talking to himself)

Sometimes… when the streets go quiet,

you can hear the city breathe.

The walls hum.

The air remembers.

And if you listen real close…

the voices don’t sound like ghosts —

they sound like home.

(Piano chords linger; trumpet sighs once, distant.)

⸻

🎶

The river called my name last night,

soft as a mother’s prayer.

Said, “Boy, don’t cry for the things that left,

I’m still holding you there.”

Each ripple carried laughter back,

from days we thought were gone.

I closed my eyes, and in that sound,

I knew we all move on.

🎶

⸻

🎶

Je t’entends, mon cœur, mon feu,

I hear you still — I always do.

La nuit parle en lumière douce,

The night speaks in gentle light.

🎶

⸻

🎶

I hear you in the hush of dawn,

In the horn when the rain is gone.

In every step on this broken floor,

You say, “Child, love endures once more.”

Je t’entends, oh mon âme fidèle,

I hear your song, I know it well.

🎶

⸻

(Jon leans closer to the mic; the piano hushes)

I used to think the silence meant goodbye.

But maybe… maybe silence is just music

waitin’ on its cue.

I hear you in the hush between the notes —

the same way hope hides between the hurt.

🎶

The wind still hums through the trumpet’s seam,

The light still dances where it used to dream.

🎶

⸻

🎶

L’amour ne meurt pas,

it only changes key.

Ton âme me guide,

and now you play through me.

🎶

(Soft choir echoes “ahhh…” like angels through smoke.)

⸻

🎶

I hear you in the tuba’s hum,

In every laugh when the dark is done.

Through every storm, your rhythm stays —

A second line that never fades.

Je t’entends, je t’aime encore,

Through every door, through every shore.

The river sings, the night replies —

And I hear you… in every sunrise.

🎶

⸻

That sound?

That’s not memory.

That’s presence.

And when I play…

you play too.

(He closes with a soft, unresolved chord — a question left floating in gold light.)