MEMORIES

“Were it not for music, we might in these days say, the Beautiful is dead.” - Benjamin Disraeli

Sometimes a few notes of a song half heard while one is rushing past another car on the road, or when one changes radio station, a few fleeting notes, can bring back with great strength memories of the past. Vivid images that one thought were forgotten are quickly resurrected. A snatch of melody, that someone hums in the street, a few mumbled words of lyric are enough to rekindle old flames amongst the ashes. Music speaks to our soul and the only way for us to answer is with our heart. When our heart sings, the melody will cause our brain to raise a white flag, defeated…

The Child in the Truck

The streets, empty and cold.
The morning, grey and cloudy.
The leaves of yesterday’s paper
Waltzing with the wind on wet asphalt,
While bleary-eyed the newspaper boy
Sourly announces a newer version of the news.

And I, serene, relentlessly introverted
Listen to your rhythms
Leaving your melodies to wander aimlessly
In the deserted alleyways of my mind.
Your verses loiter, lingering
In room after room of grey matter
Proselytising from my memory images,
Pale, faded, ideal…

“Oh, my precious urban loneliness,
Grey-dressed, frigid sister,
How slowly you unravel round me!
You unsex yourself,
And in your newly muscular grip
You tighten your wily snares
To entrap me.”

Bathed in the wan, grey morning light
That tiny child looks feebly, wide-eyed
Through the dirty window of the truck.
And in the stark beauty of waiting
He sits alone, abiding
The inexorable loss of innocence.