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



Next StoryMy Father’s Voice
Previous StoryI Was