On Listening to French Cafe Music

You cannot understand the words.
You cannot read the music.
It is all foreign and pleasingly strange.

There is perhaps something lost
in the not knowing. Meaning perhaps
or a knowledge of progressions, but

there is something gained,
a deeper listening, not just for music
but understanding

even when understanding is not possible,
you create your own, like love at first sight,
it is magic.

About this poem

I have a love for French Cafe music, but I can’t understand a word. I also have a weakness for Middle Eastern music, and again, I can’t understand a word. A lot of my life is like that. Loving things I cannot understand. Perhaps understanding is not necessary to love. Something to think about.

The photograph was taken in a Vivaldi museum in Venice.

Be well. Travel wisely,

Tom