By Raynette Eitel
Songs are strewn about my heart
In random heaps.
Strings of tunes
Stretch across my soul,
Playing through my lonely lips
In long-lost lullabies.
Tattered songs
Scattered about in my head
Like old laundry
Are waiting to be played.
They become the musical score
Of my dreams each night,
Ushering in morning
With a robust, full-blown
"Fanfare for the Common Man."
Romantic tunes
Slide in on moonbeams,
Swimming in golden swirls
Of light;
Sometimes melancholy,
Given to soft violins and quiet cellos;
Occasionally whimsical,
A lone flute skipping like a young child;
Often flamboyant as
Seventy-something trombones.
I hear them all.
I laugh.
I weep.
I relive memories.
