The Past whispers, softly scratching
Through layers of time, waiting to be
Heard. Remembered scents, tunes, sights
Voices, waiting, wanting to be heard. You
Don't ignore them, whispers, softly wafting.
The sounds of his spool tape recorder
Silenced forever, the records spinning on the
Turnable, static hisses passing into the vacuum
Elvis and Nancy crooning into the unknown.
Voices of the past waiting to be heard.
Russian friends projecting films from the war
Patriotic songs of heroism and sacrifice, slogans
Of a revolution that overthrew an Emperor,
Exhorting young and old to unite and make the
Motherland strong. A little boy listens to voices.
Memories are strong and will never fade away!
Strains of music waft in the air, voices-spoken
Scratch through layers of time. Parents, speaking
Words of encouragement and advice reprimand-
Old music wafting through the ether, gone.
Born in a land one wishes to visit to look at the
Places one lived in, meet childhood friends, and
Know that they were for real. Alas! That time
Has passed, and memories are all that remain!
Often, one wonders if they were mere dreams.
And all this while the spool rolls, vinyl spins
The cassette rolls, songs drift down memory
Lane, reminding us of another world where
Time was spent in nature's lap, watching
Lions in the cotton field, crocodiles basking.
The patriotic songs of victory float from the
Celluloid projected by Russians, stirring a
Sense of pride, wonder where Vera and Stephen
Might be, or even that despot who visited us in
School, even as armed soldiers faced us.
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