Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem- night music August 25, 2014

I was the lone

talentless one

in a room of musicians.

As each took his place,

at his instrument

I turned on the cassette

recorder, determined

to capture the moment.

I collapsed onto

the couch, in

blurry eyed reverie

as the music tangled

in my brain, filled the

basement, bounced

off the ceiling tiles.

The pianist glanced

into my starry eyes

and grinned.

The others teased

between their strings,

but words fell away

in the fog of my euphoria.

His lips curled upwards

on one side

as his eyes twinkled at mine.

When he packed to go

I rewound the tape.

I heard the

mangled mess of a

damaged tape.

Devastated, I

blinked through

tearful eyes.

Everyone  laughed,

but he draped an

arm around my shoulders

and guided me up the stairs.

As his ride arrived

he whispered,

“Don’t worry.

I’ll make you

more music.”

And

he

did.

.

.

.

(Is it any wonder I wrote a book about this? lol  Tonight, I had a flashback.  Thought I’d share.)

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