Music Beyond Time
He plays. A slight smile on his face,
like he hears something in the notes
we do not. A different magic
that comes from muscle memory,
fingers on frets, the swing of the bow,
the tension just so, magic
making music from wood, wire, and sinew.
He plays. A slight smile on my face,
the music bringing to mind a time
and a place far removed
from anything save memory.
Hands held, bodies leaning close,
the smell of perfume
in a strange land that feels like home.
Narrow streets and cafes and canals
calling you home with every note.
About this song.
Inspired by the picture, which was taken at a Rennaisance Faire but makes me think of Venice in a time I never lived. But often feel like I do.
Imagination is a wonderful thing.