My Daddy Whispered.,

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...