I closed my eyes as my son eased into a Bach cello suite during his recent lesson. I drifted quickly into serenity and dream. Keep playing this song, I thought. Never stop. And the words began to appear, first describing what I heard, what I felt, then what I saw, and finally what I became.
PLAY ME A SONG
Play me a song
on that big string cello,
low and slow,
to swell in my chest
and tighten my throat
and get me to crying soft.
Play me that song
again. I want to hear it.
I want to hear
as the walls fall away
and the roof flies off
and trees and flowers
grow up through the decomposing floor,
around me, close,
aromatic, shading
as the song goes on,
low and slow,
till my cocoon is complete
and I wait until Spring
to emerge, your song
still sweet in my ears.
Rabbit Lane 
Roger, your poetry is so soul oriented!
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Thank you Patsy! I hope you have a joyous Thanksgiving holiday!
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Thanks, Roger, I had mine in October and I wish you the same.
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Oh, that’s right. I remember reading your post about it. So sorry. Here comes Christmas!
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That is just beautiful! I could envision every scene in my mind as your poem unraveled in my mind. Please send along the music as well next time!
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Nice, Dad! I really like this one.
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Thank you, son. I’m happy you enjoyed it!
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Very nice, Roger! I could see and feel you slipping out of the tight bondage of mortar and brick into a land that has no limits and the nature world has no fears or worries with the song as your ticket into that peaceful place.
Bob Dylan had a line in “Mr Tamborine Man” that I loved that is similar to this; “and except for the sky there are no fences facing”. That’s not right, I know. I’ll have to look it up again. But you get the idea.
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Thank you so much, Mary. Your prose is so poetic in its own right.
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