There’s a Thursday me inside my clothes
A Thursday me that no one knows
I become a singer on the stage
For those old and worn with age
Their memories fade with time
With still a remnant of their prime
We sing the songs of yesterday
Of forty five’s we used to play
And while the present is illusive
And recent memory is confusive
The sound of music in their ears
Awakens thoughts of all those years
The words come back upon the tongue
They climb the ladder, rung by rung
The magic of music never fails
It reaches out, pulls back the veils
Which have covered them every one
Until it’s hard to see the sun
They give me more than I can say
I live a dream of yesterday
Of whom I thought that I might be
But did not become reality
I sing for them, they sing for me
And I am happy as can be
For my audience you see
Finds the very best in me
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Author:
Bella Shepard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 10th, 2025 13:36
- Comment from author about the poem: I have the privelege of leading a music group every Thursday at a Memory Care Facility, with the best friends in the world.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
A wonderful write firstly of the joys of performing and secondly the power of music and never ending joy it gives to people, enjoyed the read
The joy of giving and in return receiving a fave for the feel and so nicely worded Bella
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