TalkSongs: Composed on a 6 string tenor ukulele.
 
 
Listen on SoundCloud        
https://soundcloud.com/user-729402162/on-the-hillside

On The Hillside …” sherry steiner (c) 2017

It is now that a song is sung    in the garden of a deep dream

in the garden of a deep dream        A song is sung.

On the hillside music drifts by   with our voices to the wind ~

breezy melodies and fragrant mist    timeless moments in tune

as the sounds lift the sparrows    onto a magic carpet of serendipity. 

It is now that a song is sung    in the garden of a deep dream

in the garden of a deep dream           A song is sung.

On the hillside music drifts by    Rhythms rising so very high

as the blue jays scatter above   awakening the morning glories

as they dance until tomorrow       in the twilight of today.

It is now that a song is sung   in the garden of a deep dream

in the garden of a deep dream       A song is sung.

On the hillside music drifts by with harmonies that have come home ~

Singing out to warm skies above and cool grass below

Summer sounds fall to autumn and the hummingbird is so very silent.

It is now that a song is sung   in the garden of a deep dream

in the garden of a deep dream    A song is sung.

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Listen on SoundCloud        
https://soundcloud.com/user-729402162/maybe-it-was-1  OR    
https://soundcloud.com/user-729402162/maybe-it-was-another-version

 

Maybe It Was  Sherry Steiner (c) 9.29.17

I lost the melody that was swirling in my head

Maybe it was hiding underneath the bed…

Flameless candles – an unclaimed spark

Fifty automobiles lined up in the dark

A forest sporting a crooked sidewalk

Your whispers quiet my everyday talk.

I lost the harmony that was brewing in my head

Maybe it was hiding underneath the bed…

Without shadows or dovetails sorrowed

a short lived ascent on time borrowed

A weeknight sky glistened over a jet

No peppered thoughts of regret yet.

I lost the lyrics that were churning in my head

Maybe they were hiding underneath the bed…

An illusion, a delusion you say

your call to arms your silent parlay

A turning of the forlorn tide

there is nothing left to set aside.

I lost the rhythm that was dancing in my head

Maybe it was hiding underneath the bed.

Your distempered words with no reprieve

Your heart tucked tightly inside your sleeve

Damage done – you have won.

A solo player on the run…

I lost the song that was playing in my heart

floating down the hillside in a horse drawn cart.

Your time lapse persona is a walk on the water

a white mooned river – a five year quiver.

And when I awake in the morn

Maybe I will hear a different song

Maybe I will hear a different song.