Don't be so loud, be quieter still.Can you hear that sound of a
distant trill. Up over the hill. A jingle, a riddle from an old
stradivarius fiddle.
Such wonderous tones,
Brings my heart back home,
Unlike anything I've known...
A sudden flock of geese pass by, their shrill, their cry,
captures my will, my mind, and I'm whisped back, to a slower time.
Where I find, life a little more kind.
Didn't need no specail day or afternoon, togather, together
in the sun room.
Where we sang softer tunes, from January to June. And August
threw September, old ballads, we remembered.
And although October carried a harder note.., in alto clef
we wrote. Strings were bent.. weakend..hammered, but not Broke...
Then November threw December, we sang heart warmingly, in tenor.
All so Gently played, the
Harmony of Yesterday.
Now as we pause and reflect, with a more slower, cautious step.
We are left, with a lead, to a more simpler melody. A key to
hold, Moments of Gold, the Memories of then, that take us
back to when, Our Daddies said,
Listen...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sudden flock of geese pass by, their shrill, their cry, captures my will, my mind, and I'm whisped back, to a slower time. Where I find, life a little more kind......magnificent. An endearing poem....top score!