I first heard her sonant, in my conception of days,
where the womb held me silent, suspended in space.
The sound of her music, gave a comfort from fears,
while the angels in glory, wiped away every tear.
I remember her voice, from my earliest of days,
as we sat in the shade of the Live Oaks that swayed.
Sounds of her instrument, made me always feel sure,
when worlds that I knew, were so cold and disturbed.
Her voice seemed so flawless, like angelics of old,
she taught me her sonants, like her mother before.
This world not the same, as worlds once were in time,
for the sounds of her music, will not again meet with mine.
If I know some remorse, from this life that I've lived,
it's I never did tell her what her instrument did.
How the sound of her voice, was so wonderfully loved,
by her children of springtime, as we walked in her world.
Barbara A. Carlan 6/4/2009