Upon this Chair ~ #poetry

Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos

She plays the sweetest melody

A violin, tucked under her chin

The sounds that make the angels sing

As on her fiddle, she would begin

A sadness, on her face, appears

Her eyes closed, as she’s recalling

The one who sat upon this chair

A child’s tears, would soon be falling

From this daughter, who loved her deeply

Though, no longer could she hear her play

Except through her very own fingers

Grandma said mommy wanted it this way

And so she plays, for her mother

A woman, she can no longer see

Until her time, on this earth, is done

When they’ll play, together again, for eternity

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

View original post


Categories: Featured

Reply At Your Own Risk. Leave The Dumbfuckery At The Door.

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s