#1722-Grandpa

Cramped, crowded,

Loud, confusing.

Echoes from days gone by,

And those to come.

Yet in every day,

There are sunny stalks, and

Hidden, green islands,

Where waves gently wash away,

Intruding thoughts.

Like those many years ago,

When behind closed doors,

Curtains were drawn,

Eyes closed,

As Beethoven’s violin

Concerto played in darkness,

For two youthful souls,

Drowning out thoughts,

Of their busy, noisy world.