The Orchestra

            The Orchestra

         By Connie James  

The orchestra has come to remind me 
Of the music the sounds making me feel nostalgic
When life was beautiful!

A charmed, childhood had we
Life was fun, with much of music
And very much full of love!  

Papa was our hero, we loved him so.
A musician was he amongst other skills,
Turning his hand at most things.
Our home most times full of music, and laughter
As a child growing up recollecting the ins and outs of life.

After dinner, we'd be sitting all around the dining table 
Making music...
For instruments using our voices 
Accapella we sang. 
Making the sounds of an instrument of your choice
But of course, we had the cutlery glasses saucepans,
Lids as cymbals pots as drums! 
And so we had our percussion;
But of course, Papa was the maestro.  

I can still see him with his baton in hand
We kids were called to make our sounds in tune
In turn to make music...
Oh Lord you only had to be there to witness 
The madness of it all 
Oh my goodness, what a madhouse!

The singing the laughter, but most of all the love.
Hysterical noise, growing, louder much louder;
And Mama begging for the noise to stop.
Compering to a lunatic bin!

Papa would have none of it like a child protesting.
Ahh, the sound the beautiful sounds 
The music, the laughter the tears and the love; 
I miss you so much!  

Today as we get together long after Papa's gone  
We sang acapella.
One would start moments later the next would take on
Going on and on never-ending
Embedded in my memory, my heart...
Boa Noite Querido Papa;
Sleep tight.