An Old Song

The radio played an old song this morning.
It brought me back to a long ago time.
My feeling of peace was an unexpected gift.

I remember how the song brought a treasure.
It showed me truth and beauty around me.
I recall the precious life I have been given.

A song is a tiny seed in its composer’s hands.
The producer provides fertile soil and light.
The musicians reveal a beautiful flower.
I find its fragrance in my heart so I smile.

W. Wayne B.

About William Wayne Smith

I'm a poet, library fan and maker.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.