My dad loved to play the violin.
Magic strings held secrets within.
A galloping bow played a rhapsody.
Rosin added a pulse to the melody.
Notes came to life; they had their own mortality.
As a solo ended, Dad slowly came back to reality.
Still mesmerized, I could see the tears that he had.
How could such beauty make my father so sad?
Longingly, he thought of the place of his birth.
His heart ached for his former home on earth.
Leaving home as a teen was a difficult choice…
The loveliness of his music had a tender voice.
On the riverbanks of the Danube were his thoughts.
He was a free citizen, but his mind was tied in knots.
One day, my father got a brotherly handwritten note.
'Haven’t seen you in fifty years, come visit…' he wrote.
It would be Dad’s first time traveling by air across the sea.
He arrived at his destination holding a sign saying this is me.
Letters stating his name, identifying a face that had changed.
His brother anxiously strained and embraces were exchanged…
For one month, my father was abroad rekindling family ties.
When he returned he was different, sadness had left his eyes.
A year later he died; silent violin strings no longer resonated.
My melodious memories of his wonderful talent still captivated.
What a wonderful story, for your father it must have been a journey of rediscovery, being reminded of past lives. Magic strings did hold secrets for him and sweet memories for you. Bob
My father is my inspiration, I got his inclination to poetic expression about anything that touched the emotions. He is very emotional too when it comes to family ties. You have made us proud of our fathers through this tribute you wrote.Thanks for sharing. A 10 for it.
A beautiful tribute to your father. So enjoyable, Theresa. Marilyn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the memory story poems......something to pass on to your children..... beautiful piece here T