The disk on the radio
not the melody
yet what might be
Remember random choice
when blues today
war zone tomorrow
yet always it happens
we want to hear
not today though
say it in your head
then watch your hand
reach for the dial
you know she is waiting …
… only love is …
A few days went by, a coupe of sunsets
mostly the rains, he’d been used to their
discretion, every day a new pattern
would remind him again how far apart …
Together time measured only a faint
recall when her lips would touch his own.
A cool winter night, warmth, each other
near to knowing this celebration of love.
In the quiet of an early night sky, Chopin
wrote is masterwork, while we might wander
our own mind wanting answers long before even
a legitimate question might lay to reset his wish.
He did now wish only her response that she would hear
his cry in the solemn night where he did now wander alone.
~ finding my way l a personal journey ~