Record player’s relay

There was a Record,

In my grandpa’s room,

Played it melodies, like it had  life of its own!

Went it into melancholy, when life seemingly was mundane,

Blared it scintillating tunes, when life offered seamless surprises .

There always a tune, for every turn,

Knew it, when to uplift our spirits,

Knew it, when to multiply our joys.


It was taken care of,

Like a good old friend,

Not a speck of dust on it, to be seen,

Wiped it clean, every morning, by grandpa himself.

Prized possession indeed it was,

Of my grandpa’s room.


I reckon, it knew,

Of the day, when grandpa parted for the heavenly abode,

Stopped it from playing a tune,

Asked it,” why did he leave us, ever too soon?”


Always a faithful companion,

Never did it disappoint us from playing a tune,

That’s the fond memories I have,

Of the Record in my grandpa’s room.


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