"Let there be music!",
Edward would always say,
On every celebratory occasion.
My dear cousin, it is unfortunate
How his life ended,
For he was so full of promise.
He would always write on his party invitations,
"Dear, Sweet Leota, Beloved By All,
Will be Joining Us Tonight."
I find it comical, for I was not beloved by all.
The Gracey Family always thought me an oddball,
And accused me of nonsense whenever
Edward wasn't around to defend me,
And my gift.
"Mere trifling twaddle", the Graceys agreed.
But they don't understand my gift.
The spirits are everywhere,
Calling to us,
But it seems only I can receive their
Sympathetic vibrations.
How odd it should be,
The anniversary of the happy couple's death.
The guests are assembling for a swinging wake.
So, as my dear cousin said,
Let there be music,
From regions beyond.