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Poem

A piece of music takes us by the hand
and leads us through its world from time to place,
from place to time by hand from land to land
within a vast expanse in which to pace.

But soon it's gone, has left my ears and life,
and moved its eyes to left, right, up and down.
It smiled so smugly as it gave me strife
and left me with these saddest eyes that frown.

Yet thank you, dearest sound, for being here
with notes and bars that aim to bring us pleasure.
We smile so hard to try to quell our fear
and try so hard to elongate our leisure.

This muse was swiftly here yet so soon parted -
yes, fled with speed. It's gone. We're broken-hearted.

(6 Jan 2023)

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