Posts Tagged ‘Papa’

            PAPA’S VIOLIN


When Papa played the violin

          Mom rolled the rug away

We children smiled because she knew

          We’d rather dance than play

As Papa raised the tempo

          Our feet kept cadenced time

Mama often sang along

          With words in perfect rhyme

We’d dance until the music stopped

          Then fall into a chair

While Papa changed the tempo

          With expertise quite rare

It seemed he knew a million tunes

          At least I thought he did

But that was admiration

          Through the heart of a kid

Yet, he could play forever

          And without one repeat

The music slow or lively

          With melody so sweet

From concert music and old tunes

          To music of the day

Two-step, waltz, and hoedown

          Oh, how sweet he’d play

He could set your heart soaring

          On his concert violin

The room so still you could hear

          The soft drop of a pin

But then with quick transition

          The tempo changed once more

From violin to fiddle

          And our feet caressed the floor

That little box of polished wood

          With strings and resined bow

Made music that pleased angels

          Or inspired heel and toe

But that was just acoustics

          And guaranteed to please

What really made that box sing

          Was Papa’s expertise



6/11/90        Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck


6’th … Indiana NPD 1999

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Mama’s Apron

        MAMA’S APRON


I came to close the old homestead

Its structure old and frail

And found a token from the past

Left hanging on a nail

Just a piece of faded gingham

Plain and gathered full

With bands my Mama tied behind

Which Papa loved to pull

A tear sought solace on my cheek

I held the apron fast

For memories stirred my heart and soul

As I recalled its past

It carried eggs in from the nest

And apples from our grove

It carried harvest to the house

And kindling for the stove

It wiped away the children’s tears

It chased the flies away

It often was a wrap-a-round

When sister went to play

When Mama cooked and baked for us

It held hot pots and pans

And if the kitchen got too warm

It=s corners served as fans

It also was a shoulder cape

When Mama cut our hair

It made a dandy hideaway

When draped across a chair

I saw it chase the birds away

In Mama’s garden rows

And once it stemmed the steady flow

From brother’s bloody nose

On week-end nights when I was small

And washtub baths were due

The apron hung between two chairs

Protecting me from view

And now it functions once again

As in those by-gone years

It’s folds are lifted to my eyes

To wipe away my tears



3/23/92         Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck


1’st Ind. NPD 1992       4’th. Ark.NPD 1993

1’st PAW 1993          1’st. Ark. PWC 1994

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