Old Friend

It was in early August when you first passed me by-

A whisper of a voice floating on the winds.

The harmonic notes danced

through

the 

empty

space and captured my soul,

I was completely taken by the fluid lyrics.

However, I did not mind.

I surrendered willingly, I gave no fight.

 

It was in early August when I first learned your name: 

Music.

How sweet the word sounded.

How comforting.

My teeth had not yet formed and my speech had not yet come

but that was alright.

I didn't need to speak to understand Music.

 

It was in early August when I first learned your rhythm;

My legs had grown stronger

and I found that I could now sway side to side to your voice, before I would fall.

But that's alright.

I could always get back up.

 

It was in early August when I first learned to sing.

Our melodies mixed and I was filled with bliss.

My heart was content and I beemed with pride.

I had learned all those years.

I had waited patiently

and now I could become one with Music.

 

It was in early August when tragedy struck...

My heart turned black and my hypnotic voice vanished.

Music still lingered, but I had lost the gift to listen.

I had lost the ability to care.

I drifted through the somber days like a lost soul.

A lost soul.

 

It was in early August when you shined through my gloomy days

like a glowing medallion in the sky.

Your flawless songs broke through my walls and

stitched me back together.

Your passionate embrace left me numb from the

lingering shadows.

 

It was in early August when your breathtaking sound

captured me once more.

Music.

Old friend.

Where would I be without you?

I do not know, nor do I wish to think on it.

Your poetic words have saved me,

and I thank you.

 

So now it is late March and a stranger has come to ask:

"What is the one thing you can not live without?"

Oh, dear stranger, you have made me laugh.

For if you do not know by now, then you never 

really will.

Should I speak in clearer terms?

I shall try.

For you dear stranger, I shall try.

 

I need Music.

We are old friends, you see.

I need those lyrics like the Selenophile needs the silver

Moon that dazzles in the Night.

I need those lyrics like the Pluviophile yearns for the soft drops of 

Rain.

I need those lyrics like the Nyctophile craves the blinding

Darkness.

 

Do you see dear stranger?

Do you understand?

Music is the one thing I can not live without.

Music.

Only Music.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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