In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Music
Inheritance
©May 2nd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Most days, with the scent of coffee
Came music in the mornings.
My mother’s voice, bright as oranges
Bright as the green of a neem tree, as it
Wove through the morning hours
And filtered into my consciousness
As the Madras coffee dripped
Through its filter, aromatic and charged.
And I was saturated with richness,
As I grew from baby to toddler,
To child, to teenager, to adult,
Unconscious and unaware of what
Was shaping me, and my life.
This, her music, lives in me.
And now, the music of our days
Lives through my love and me,
And filters into our daughter’s
Blood and bones, her daily life.
And this, the music of her days,
Shall live through her, and
Spread like sunshine in a land of fog.
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