I) I heard the music then, I pretend to hear it still,
soft melodic notes drifting through the maze of time,
emanating from a source both near and far, like an
echo that flows through the canyon walls, so that
I could feel the sound as it touched my soul, long
measures of wistful chords that lingered on and
drew me in. I felt compelled to find the source.
II) There is a place we can visit in the deep recesses
of our mind, where time and beauty gather, a haven
of endless fascination where everything is as it
should be, and no thought or memory is out of place,
here we are free to see the best of us, engage in
selfless conversation with the ones we love, and
the strangers we have yet to meet, to listen or
dream as the moment requires, to revel in the
sound of a harp, as our fingers ripple through
the glorious strings, like a fresh breeze over water,
to feel the pulse of the piano, as the notes of a
beloved tune spring from the box, as our hands
float across the keys with divine purpose, and
when the realization comes at last, you know
what it means to be at peace with yourself.
I found this place once.
III) I have endeavored to return ever since,
to see her sitting there in her sparkling gown,
dressed as a princess holding court, her visitors
come and go, and with each conversation a new
revelation, set to some romantic melody from
that long forgotten age. I sometimes imagine
my presence as an unseen spirit, a quiet observer,
taking measure of the tranquility I can sense,
the magic of this place, the story of a vanished
age where we both belong, together, forever,
how I long to be in that room beside her, to reach
out and stroke her hand, to kiss her cheek, to
forever float on a sea of unrestrained happiness.
But alas, to my eternal dismay,
the music I so love, no longer plays.