Again, Yet another poem from my very old aging journal in the trunk in the garage! My mother told me that as a child, age fifteen and sixteen, I was always writing mystery novels and poems. I just have not remembered it because of the brainstem tumor and the effects of it.
I do, however, remember writing these poems!!!!!!
The piano ivories trickle, like a breeze flowing in the cool wind. The sounds harmonizing making beautiful music. Oh, let us be thankful for those who can PLAY
they are our Future songs!!!!!
Written by Becky Henry as I called myself back then in December 1985. All rights reserved.
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Reviews of "Notes"
Reviewed by Paul Bruce (Reader)
Reviewed on November 29, 2003
Nice little poem,Rebecca, I'll be glad when I learn to play my drums, instead of making the racket i do now. Paul
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