for Marcy Howard

As the music, slowly plays, and you’re transported, back in time,
I see, events, from the past, sentenced, for no crime,
Those memories, make the heart, turn, another page,
Making the present, disappear, along with, the inner rage.
 
If, the present, evaporates, into, memories,
How, can we determine, what the future, may be,
The beat, of the music, at a point, reaches, a peak,
But will, those notes give you, the answers, that you seek.
 
As you, tap out the tune, that reminds you, of the past,
Hoping, your heart, can justify, the shadow, that’s been cast,
Does the music, have a heart, can music, make you feel,
As, you silently, sing along, with those memories, that are real.
 
Once the tune, enter’s, your mind, will, it ever cease,
Or do time and circumstance, only, make it increase,
Music, can echo, through, your life, but does it, make you hear,
The whisper, of a memory, wrapped, inside a tear.
 
As your song, transports you, to a worse, or better place,
The music, brings on memories, that life, can not erase,
Guard your music, closely, Let it, make you glad,
Reminder’s of, the love you have, and the other things you’ve had

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