An Old Record

     Stars revolving in the dark fabric of the night above
Moonlight trickling through the curtains
Silence ...
My cries shatter the hazy veil of dreams.
My mother jolts herself awake with sagging eyes and ruffled hair
Only to find beside her - an empty pillow.
My father is already at my crib
Gently lifting me up.
My head on his shoulder
He rocks me in the cradle of his arms.
My cries cease as
The voices of the Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel
Pitter patter in my ears like the soothing sound of a night rain
Ebbing and flowing my mind back into the deep, shadowy sea of sleep.
Years later, sitting in a car with my friends
“April Come She Will” or “Sound of Silence”
Crackles through the oldies radio station
And I am taken back to that place in my memory -
That place of unblemished contentment where I know I will be taken care of,
Where I know my father will be there to rescue me
With a shoulder to rock me on and an old record.