You made from wood
and skill, a music stand,
where I could write music
and arrange and orchestrate
the music scores in neat
musical notations all by hand.
You helped nurse me
back to health when my nerves
had shot through and out;
gave advise when asked;
joked about the music that I heard,
but listened none the less
when Coltrane played
or Couperin's ***** mass
was filling the afternoon air.
I visited you last four days
before you died, in that hospital ward
where cancer wormed its way
amongst them all,
and you no longer the dark haired
strong man of my childhood days,
but thinner, drawn,with dark hair
stained with greys.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 2:19 PM UTC
You made from wood
and skill, a music stand,
where I could write music
and arrange and orchestrate
the music scores in neat
musical notations all by hand.
You helped nurse me
back to health when my nerves
had shot through and out;
gave advise when asked;
joked about the music that I heard,
but listened none the less
when Coltrane played
or Couperin's ***** mass
was filling the afternoon air.
I visited you last four days
before you died, in that hospital ward
where cancer wormed its way
amongst them all,
and you no longer the dark haired
strong man of my childhood days,
but thinner, drawn,with dark hair
stained with greys.
