The Music of Memories

A gray and black life sketch – small man in overalls— Somber as his guitar, lifted high all those times— Playing Ozark tunes with those wild figure-eight squalls— Glasses glint raw reason as that happiness chimes. Oh, play to us softly those songs of our fathers— The tales of the Old West and those last cattle drives— Oh, play for us gently, the sons and the daughters— The music of memories that molded our lives. Music rests in remembrance and lingers on winds— It wasn’t merely one – it was many guitars— Whispering that bright music like long scattered friends— Quilting its melodies in our lives and the stars. Oh, play to us softly those songs of our fathers— The tales of the Old West and those last cattle drives— Oh, play for us gently, the sons and the daughters— The music of memories that molded our lives. Reunions bring photographs with smudges and frays: Dad and his first cousin in that photo still clear— They strummed and they fiddled all those songs of past days— As we cherished our friends and held family near. Oh, play to us softly those songs of our fathers— The tales of the Old West and those last cattle drives— Oh, play for us gently, the sons and the daughters— The music of memories that molded our lives.