Old Songs And Karaoke...
I was told as an early teenager that I sang like a frog,
Of course that crack made me jump back in the pond,
Not so much as a croak for decades,
Young egos are like silly putty,
Soft and pliable,
Unless I was alone in the car.
As a young child I loved Elvis movies,
So did my brother and sister,
Pretty melodies,
Pretty girls,
Pretty cars and boats,
Wide-eyed poet child with open ears.
My childhood hero faded,
We moved,
Other music was everywhere,
So were books,
Along with pre-teen angst,
That longing to fit in,
Somewhere,
Somehow.
Decades passed,
A chance vacation with my pretty wife,
An Elvis CD in a rack,
And the King sang to us all the way home.
It all flooded back,
That simple joy.
Soon the King rode with me to work,
And back,
My new voice coach,
My old childhood friend.
A wayward karaoke party,
Elvis in the list,
So the frog hopped back out,
Maybe not a prince,
Maybe more than a croak,
But I still love it,
An old secret passion,
Some right-brain splash on a left-brain world.
Those rusty old pipes still work a little,
Who knew?
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/08/2019