Happiness is...

Ice gleams on the front porch

Glistening in the moonlight

That gently illuminates

The quiet, cold yard.


My mother balances

Her guitar on her knees,

Smiles, and tilts her head

To sing lullabyes to the stars,


Lilting and dreamlike,

And not of this world,

Her clear voice filling up

And warming the air around her,


While her fingers dance on the fretboard,

Movements sure and precise

Yet playful and laughing

All at the same time.


I sit bundled beside her

Tiny hands still wrapped around

A steaming mug of cocoa,

Basking in the midnight music.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For my mother, she who is featured in the happiest memories of my childhood.

smooth's picture


thesimplepleasures of life great

nightlight1220's picture

I can't think of a better

I can't think of a better childhood memory. This was just wonderful.


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


allets's picture

Midnight Music Basking

What wondrous images, as if I were there in the crisp atmosphere where stars are serenaded. A transportingly enjoyable and memorable write ~Lady A~