Euterpe

I sway with the music,
the ever familiar lullaby.
the notes softly weaving a spell,
a spell of yesteryear.

The sounds come back, the smells.
a touch so familiar.
A sweet caress, a moment of tragedy.
Instances of joy, times of regret.
A memory, just a memory

yet it’s so real,
an illusion slipped out of time.

We’ve all been there.
The spell weaved too many times,
in too many ways

In the dark, in the sun.
In a crowd or alone
bathed in twilight’s last cast.

Illusions called forth,
illusions cast.

music is the best kind of magic;
Music is the worst kind of magic;
Just when we have forgotten,
the back-beat weaves it’s spell and we’re back.

Suffering all the heartache,
reliving all the triumph,
feeling all the despair.

And we are right back there

Just when we have forgotten,
the melody brings back a caress,
takes us to happier times,
to better times

And we have the strength to go on.

The lyrics weave that special kind of magic,
take us back to a place we remember

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.