Memories In A Minor Key Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The metronome ticked slowly every day
But no one told the singing thrush outside
Performing its unscripted roundelay
Its sweet crescendo swelling in its side

Along the garden, see a silver trail
Silent beneath the Tom Thumbs' gaudy flowers
Dragging her pack like Sisyphus, the snail
Secretly passes through the summer hours

A diva's on the rose, a butterfly
Flips her wings open like an opera fan
A cloud, like white-lace- lilac in the sky
Floats over a small toddler's one day span

A thrush, a snail, a butterfly, a cloud
One morning's memory, a minor key
Remembered from the cradle to the shroud
A glimpse, a tiny snatch of ecstasy