The Distant Music That Plays

It's that
lone
wisp of music
that keeps my ears
strained.
Sometimes,
the wind brings
it to me;
sometimes
my sons' smiles.

It's the kind of music
that keeps your heart
restless,
never getting enough.
Like a first-time lover.

It's the kind of music
that keeps your spirit
vigilant,
waiting to soak up it's beauty.
Like an Impressionist painting.

It's the kind of music
that keeps your soul
wandering,
searching for the perfect rhythm,
rhyme
and partner.
Like a lost sheep.

It's that kind of music
that keeps you
awake,
desperate to catch,
hold
and claim for your own.
Like the Siren singing at sea.
Like a childhood memory.
Like a first kiss,
a good kiss.

It's that
lone
strain of music
that haunts me,
calls me,
taunts me.

I sleepwalk my life away
as the Piper plays
and I follow.

Maybe I'll wake up
someday,
when I hear the full song.

But for now,
it's that
lone
strain of music
that sings to me
like a desert warbler,
pining for her love
in the scorching heat;

like a nun
at prayer,
yearning to see God;

like me
in waiting,
waiting to blossom to life,
to love.