The Orchestra

                                                         

                                    This is not a poem, Just memories

The Orchestra has reminded me
of the music the sound that makes one feel nostalgic,
for when life, was beautiful, we had a charmed childhood,
life was full of fun, full of music and very much full of love,
Papa was our hero and we loved him so, he was a musician,
our house was always full of music...full of laughter,
as a child I remember, after dinner we all sat round
the dining table and made music,
for instruments we used our voices, kind of acapella
each of us had to make the sound of an instrument,
trumpet sax clarinet & the bass trombone and so on
and of course we had the cutlery which was used
for tinkling on glasses, saucepan lids as cymbals
the bottom of saucepans as drums, and so we had our percussion,
and of course Papa was the maestro,
I can still see him with his baton.
as we were to make our sounds in tune.
we were called in turn to make music,
and my goodness it was a mad house,
the singing the laughter, the noise, most of all the love.
it was hysterical, it would get louder and louder,
and mama begging for the noise to stop,
saying it was worst than a loony bin
but Papa would have none of it.
Ah, the sound the beautiful sound.
the music the laughter the tears and the love.
that I miss so much. Today when we used to get together.
long after Papa's gone, we sang acapella like,
one started moments later the next took on,
and it goes on and on never, ending
it's all engraved in my memory,
in my heart, my soul. 

                               By Connie James