Thursday, December 10, 2020

Once ...


Once on a Sunday that lady believed
magic would manifest all of her dreams
and the sun shone on that day in between
the beginning and end of that Sunday that was.
She remembers well the heat of the day
and how blue the sky that captured her gaze
and as the leaves danced on each/every tree
she wondered what tune played only for them.
She listened because she too wished to dance
to celebrate fully her day of belief
but instead she sat still and breathed in the air
that surely held tunes she couldn’t yet hear.
And then the night fell; it kept falling, you know,
and blanketed out the sun, sky and trees.
to make her believe her day of belief
was plain and simply a dream.
But what held the dreams she certainly had
except that glorious day of belief
that weakened its grip and let them fly free
to perhaps manifest in some other time.
She waits and she waits and listens each day
for the music she couldn’t then hear
but she knows she will one Sunday in time
because days of belief don’t disappear.

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