to Marcy Howard
In the middle of a stormy night, awakened by a dream,
It seems a voice calls to me, in both a whisper and a scream,
Speaking of events now gone, but emotion that lingers still,
A song that’s playing silently;a sweet yet bitter pill.
The voice takes on a melody, a memory that acquires sound,
Notes that play on endlessly, their silence never found,
Words and music fill the air, yet they’re only in the mind,
The heart’s the station that’s tuned in, with no fast forward or rewind.
The song reminds of better days, of tomorrow and the past,
Reminders of things gone for good, and those that will always last,
A serenade that’s soothing, yet haunting at the same time,
While the fact it plays everyday, should be some sort of crime.
There is no switch to turn it off, while this smile is glad it plays,
Efforts exerted to make it stop, but it just won’t go away,
Though it plays inside the mind, it originates in the heart,
And once the first note is played, ther’s no stopping only the start.
And as the voice calls to me, in the middle of the night,
I know the voice very well, it’become my source of light,
As the memories come and go, the darkness with it’s parade,
As the music that we found together, becomes love’s soundless serenade.