the fire crackles
embers fly
and in your eyes
a million miles away
I caught a glimpse
carried away upon your music
she played the harp
plucked from within her soul

blue shoes...worn jacket
you look for your last meal
hands buried inside your pockets
where no money has been
blue stocky hat
restricted flow

a book upon his lap
his lips move between his salt and pepper beard
moves his hand in reply
to a question not asked

I take a sip of my hot tea
cinnamon and spice linger within my mouth
temped more than once
to look into your eyes
that hide between long bang hairs

he turns the grinder on
another cup of expresso
awaits the somber crowd
as they listen
to celtic harmonies upon a harp

two lads and lasses tromp over the dale
a creek runs over nearby
love so strong beats from their groin
two lambs are slaughtered for evening meal
as two new bonds create a dream for another day
another place
another awaits

where two empty chairs wait
for me this cold winter night
I rest my pen down upon the page
and listen

for a clue
for a note
for a song

it can't wait
for its written in the news
of what I missed or passed by or let escape
but tonight
I let her music carry me away and beyond

beyond the melodies
where music does not exist
none it does...or so it seems

so I sit and sip my hot tea
and let her guide me
into the moment

and in her eyes
a million miles away
I can sit and listen
for her words
this cold winter night

my tea is my song
her music awakes me from my sleep

12/04/2004

Author's Note: another one I found in my journal I had forgot about

Posted on 01/30/2005
Copyright © 2024 Mark Maxey