So This Is The Sound
of my ten year old memory:
Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Serenade
floating over the noise
of lawnmowers and weed whackers
on a warm April afternoon.
Forget the dusting
the toilet bowls
the laundry
and reach for that special glass
filled with bright red
maraschino cherries
Uncle Joe offered me
from his refrigerator.
He used to be a master of ceremonies
at a nightclub before he entered
the Second World War. Even now,
he pretends to hold a mic in his hand
while announcing the next record
he is about to play.
A mambo.
My arms reach up to meet his.
That Cesar Romero smile
looking down on me
as we dance across the floor
of his small den.
The clarinet whispers
and I hang on to this serenade
by afternoon moonlight
sweet maraschino memories
and Uncle Joe leading me
around the room
as if this
could go on
forever.
