The Sounds Of Harmony Poem by Malory Joyce

Togetherness was again but for the last of times,
and upon the walls of our new home,
written songs of the united family,
played softly in the sounds of harmony.

In my head, visions of my old home
would slowly be creeping,
reminding me of what I have left behind
and dismay the sounds of harmony.

We were together again though,
and my room window had the view of the mountains.
and I could see the life living on barbee street,
all tuned into the sounds of harmony.

In the kitchen, sitting at the table,
my eyes started tearing,
as they watched mother and father's yelling
break the sounds of harmony.

That's when togetherness became the last time,
and upon the walls of our home,
the written songs of the united family,
began erasing, and so too the sounds of harmony.

In the night, when I was sleeping,
the songs were knocking at my room door
but I ignored them, and not let in
the sounds of harmony.

I found joy in the little things that held me,
riding my bike around Barbee Street,
visiting the lady who always watered her flowers,
listening to her own sounds of harmony.

In the garden, she taught me
that songs are not written to remind you
of a bad past, but how you got past them
through the sounds of harmony.

Togetherness still remains separated,
and Barbee Street is now only a memory,
but I now write songs of how I got through,
singing my own sounds of harmony.

In my heart, were the memories
and I could sing them to the world,
and everyone can read about
the sounds of harmony.