If music be the food of love…write on

                                    Flute and Harpsichord Duet

The time of our lives

When your soft fingers play with

The cleft in my chin

The beat of your heart

Your voice is such sweet music

Drum's beat of passion

Together in tune

Our love’s like a symphony

Seductive rhythm

Tenor in my voice

But words are not my forte

Pause for reflection

A medley of kisses

You play with my affections

And nibble my ears

Now I must leave you

Concerto’s last movement

Resounding applause

Sharp pain of absence

I note the tears in your eyes

Plucking my heartstrings

25+ words related to music or including musical terms are included in this piece.

Image found at www.bonhams.com

Our magic land

You and I found a magic land

So we went there hand in hand

Where soft hills we did explore

Limpid pools enticed us even more

Supple trees swayed from side to side

A dark forest welcomed us inside

Where woodland scents aroused us there

We frolicked in secret without a care

Sun’s arrogant glare now was hidden

Quiet whispers were not forbidden

Life’s crude ways were left far behind

And its torments were out of mind

Oh what magic was there that day

We just didn’t want to come away

When I stole that last kiss from you

You said “Don’t tell a soul, that’s taboo"

Image from www.corbisimages.com

Old Timer's Lament

As I didn't start contributing to Two Shoes Tuesday until prompt 10, I thought I would include the first nine prompt words in this piece and allude to the 100th. As one of the older contributors do forgive me my sarcasm.

No illusions left

Someone please open the door

I fear I cannot

“Tell me your secret

It is very safe with me

Just what did you say?”

Hope is eternal

“If winter comes, can spring be...”

So the saying goes

I can’t walk in rain

So my eyes are damp with tears

I miss everything

Swim in the blue sea

Water makes me feel alive

Rejuvenate me

I remember shoes

But now I just wear slippers

I’ve no place to go

Centurion he

“Just who remembers me still?

My friends are all gone”

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He left her a gift

He was gone again

Their ships passing in the night

He’d left her a gift

He usually did

A cute lass or handsome lad

To greet him next time

So away he sailed

Letting go the sheet anchor

Hauling the main sails

Contact was broken

Yet their connection was strong

“He’s here in their eyes”

She imagined him

Every time she named them

Yet fearing the worst

She sang them a song

“Where is my daddy at sea?

Please come home to me”

She never thought of

The many goblets of grog

Or girls in the ports

After many months

To the port office she went

Looking at the signs

But she could not read

So entered and ask for news

“It’s vital” she said

Wife of a seaman

She had the sense to know

From the man’s speech

They were now alone

A sad poem she must sing

Home he would not come

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An Empty Bed

Have I been dreaming?

I woke to an empty bed

Now it seems so big

I reach out, you’ve gone

I hear the rain dance for me

Somebody loves me

Skies are grey today

Everybody’s in a rush

But I’m a slowcoach

The world’s had a wash

There is no trace of you left

Except in my heart

Have I been dreaming?

I woke to an empty bed

Now the world’s so big

Image found at www.brokenfixit.com

A dusty scrapbook

I’d been gone so long

But I was back home again

For the funeral

Forty years now passed

I had changed, the town had changed

But I still belonged

There was the old church

The park, the river of youth

There the market square

Once I was a choirboy

Always on my bicycle

Playing with my mates

No eulogies said

My mother’s friends now all gone

Her son a stranger

My back felt a tap

And the she uttered my name

“I knew you mum well”

She had a kind face

Worn by many a summer

“I’ve something for you”

After the service

She took me back to her place

“Why don’t you sit down?”

With a cup of tea

She offered a piece of cake

“Forgive me” she smiled

“She said this is yours

It’s so full of photographs

Her dusty scrapbook"

Guests that stay too long

Still they come to this barren land

From teeming cities, swamp and sand

Their desire for freedom so intense

Despite the dangers and expense

Their worries far outweigh the dangers

Despite our history of bushrangers

They come to leave behind war and strife

And of course to seek a better life

But with welcome here they do not get

High seas and navy patrols see them met

Then to remote internment camps are sent

In this land compassion is quite absent

There is a far better way and wiser

To arrive by plane with a temporary visa

To work or even take a blissful holiday

Overstay your welcome, you might be okay

Image fro, www.theaustralian.com.au