About three score years ago,
My cousin proudly played
Trombone in a high school band.
It was a big instrument
You could always find him,
Perhaps that's why?
About two score and 10 years ago,
My sister borrowed
Said trombone in spite of playing
The violin, piano, and clarinet.
It was a big instrument
You would certainly notice her,
Perhaps that's why?
About one score and 10 years ago,
Time had passed, families grew,
Attics filled, life ensued.
One day, he asked
If she still had said trombone.
"Not a chance," she replied.
It was a big instrument
You would certainly notice it.
Said trombone was missing
Until today
When said trombone,
Tarnished, twisted, warped, worn,
Was rescued from
Between the rafters
Amidst boxes of ornaments
Decades of family memories,
Resting.
It took time,
Yet, it was a big instrument
Eventually, you would notice it
To make new
Family memories.
5 comments:
I love how you used repetition in this sweet poem!
I love how the repetition in the poem weaves it all together. I'm glad it was found! Such a large instrument shouldn't stay hidden.
Many people are like that trombone. They stay hidden, for years, and one day are "found" and find their voice again.
The repetition really works. Like an heirloom, the trombone is passed down over the years. arjeha
A beautiful poem using time and repetition to preserve the legacy of instrument and music.
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