The songs of my childhood were playful and sweet,
with poetry and melody that I knew complete.
The songs of my youth were ponderous and slow,
as I discovered depths in places I thought shallow.
The songs of romance were frenzied and erratic,
much like love itself that ravaged chaotic.
The songs of loneliness were tearful but true,
comforting in the knowledge that others felt it too.
The songs of sacrifice were resolute and tragic,
and always pushed me to give it all for my magic.
The songs of death were sombre and serene,
they painted a quiet picture of a peaceful scene.
The songs of hope are my favorite of all,
they inspire and encourage, enchant and enthrall.
A song is all it takes to relive moods and memories,
they mark events and eras and weave each our histories.
I’m glad to have had these songs in my life:
without them it would’ve been a meaningless strife.