A NOTE ON MUSIC
He stands, baton resting in hand.
Poised, ready to stir the orchestra into life.
Waiting, for a tap from the baton.
Note’s, are waiting, to be played,
crotchet, quavers, semibreves.
Note’s written, by genius hands.
Longing, to be heard.
Tap, tap tap, the baton raises.
Cuts through the anticipation,
like a soldiers Sabre.
The baton is free,
from a thousand notes,
erupts a melody.
Flooding the air with a beauty unseen.
Filling ear, heart and souls,
music, can give a lifetime of love.
A note, alone is just a tone.
But together, many can create as symphony.
A note alone, is just a tone.
But many notes, do memories make.
Happy birthday to you, maybe the first.
Nursery rhymes, shared with a loving mother.
Weird stuff played, by an elder brother.
School assembly, hymn book in hand.
School disco, first dance, first kiss.
Wedding bells ringing, choir singing.
First dance as husband and wife.
'Musical memories mark our lives '
til the final hymns of sad Goodbyes.