Joyful Interlude

At some point I stopped
listening to music. For me
it was someone else’s joy.

Someone else’s story.
Not mine. Abuse of any
kind stops the music

of your life.

My LP records sit on a
shelf. I thumb through
them from time to time.

I can’t play my music
CDs either. I don’t want
to revisit a life of abuse.

Songs stir memories
I rather not have. But I
long for the sweet and

joyful interlude that
was written only for me.

[Author’s note: FYI, there is an exception. I have a group of CDs known as my car music, e.g., The Manhattans, Huey Lewis, The Commodores, to name a few, that I listen to on and off. But they stay in the car.]

The Bird Sang

It is getting colder and
rain clouds are pressing in.

There was one bird singing;
I thought it was for me but

he stopped.

I don’t have a song today.
I long to sing a song I love.

I will sing again but not today.
The bird returned singing a
new song:

“When your breasts are full
and your hips are wide, you
will laugh and sing.”

I wondered if the bird sang
to me.