My Daddy's Banjo

I hear music in the trees, filtering down from the sky. It sounds like Daddy's banjo serenading Angels on High. I smell Prince Albert tobacco as Daddy smokes his pipe.... Rings of smoke twirl around. as he adjusts the strings just right. Carving wood for his banjo, I watched it came alive. I still wonder about the strings. The head was from dried cowhide. My memory was real for a time but the past just can't stay. The future stands before me. I will see him again one day.