Come and share Dorinda’s – UPON THIS CHAIR, a sentimental and moving post!
Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos
A violin, tucked under her chin
The sounds that make the angels sing
As on her fiddle, she would begin
A sadness, on her face, appears
Her eyes closed, as she’s recalling
The one who sat upon this chair
A child’s tears, would soon be falling
From this daughter, who loved her deeply
Though, no longer could she hear her play
Except through her very own fingers
Grandma said mommy wanted it this way
And so she plays, for her mother
A woman, she can no longer see
Until her time, on this earth, is done
When they’ll play, together again, for eternity
©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
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