A song from a distant radio

Unveils a time gone by

Or words woven tastefully

Unlock an old key of memories

A brooding violin sings

Unbuttons the bosom of sorrow

A slight touch on the fret

Undresses a wound forgotten



I hear a prelude every morn

When the breeze plays

A bird then takes it to soprano

And in cadenza goes the day

The tiny ones have their own symphony

When all’s dark and no one’s listening

They talk to each other in lyrics

Till the Sun shines a spotlight



Or sometimes I hear a group

Singing with all their might

And reminds me of school days

Of playful reckless days

The anthem much hated back then

Renews its words in my heart

And jogs my memory

To the child I am not anymore


A few songs have stayed

Stubbornly in my playlist

And create new memories

Each time as they touch my ears

Others I sing in the bathroom

And still try very hard

To fit them in the texture

Of my often failing voice

A love song moves me still

The words seem to caress my soul

The notes are synonymous

To my feelings, to my being


Fortunate are the hands

That slide on a piano

And blessed are those

That direct the bow on a violin

How beautiful is the voice

Of the heart that finds excuses

To sing at every moment

And make the symphony last

Blessed is the God

Who composed such a melody

Blessed be His name

Through a Hosanna in a song.

 © Mukti Masih 2018


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