What is the melody, where is the song?
Searching through the jukebox, searching through this collection of records… Was the song simply another stolen memory?
Poetic metaphors about confusion and love abound…simply hidden confessions…
Empty roads, trains running across bridges and the lucky old sun.
Couples walking and slowly diverging into separate paths… One leading towards a lake the other towards a city.
Poetic metaphors expressed in a melody accompanied by a lone piano…
Tears, years and fears all wrapped up into a broken clock…
Yet the questions remain…
Prayers expressed over and over again.
Sometimes feeling like a dog barking or a car alarm going off… Ignored until it slowly goes away.
Lost dreams, embraces and times of our lives all in a time capsule buried six feet below the ground.
What is the melody, where is the song?
Searching through the jukebox, searching through this collection of records… Was the song simply another stolen memory?
A poet’s life… We can’t see life in black and white, so many shades and hues screaming out towards us. Another metaphor another hidden confession.
Below the blood red moon, yellow door is slamming shut and pebbles are thrown against the windows of her room.
Can one ever truly understand ones desire for true love?
Can one ever simply turn away?
I promise…I promise…
Oh but the long of her back as she sat upon the bed, the sheets at her side and her hair fallen…
Down…promises broken…
What is love? Is it simply lust disguised or is it a feeling of resignation towards emotional roller coaster tours?
No more, no more, no more dark rooms and smoke stained clothing.
No more, no more, hypnotic perfumes pulling me towards the majestic vistas of her skin and her beautiful feminine absurdity.
A view through a window, she is sitting alone upon a bed, with white sheets and her hair has
fallen upon her shoulders…
Oh well…
Standing by the window, bride waiting for her groom.
Flowers cradled, grassy field and a lake with a lone fisherman.
The town is closing down for the evening as her makeup begins to fade.
“I believe, I believe in love.”
She looks towards the trees across from the lake and a lone figure is walking, downcast and all dressed for the occasion.
She falls into her chair and says a quick blessing.
A knock on the door and a smile. A kiss on the lips and then a walk down the aisle.
Prayers are answered in ways that are not easy to understand.
Don’t forget forever and don’t let it get out of hand.
She stands leaning towards the open sky, with the river below
and a shadow by her side.
Her future in front of her, like an canvas waiting to be caressed by the soft brushes, the wet paint and her fingers bleeding across…
She paints her way, the colors are her choices,
in the shapes and the designs of her true inner voices.
No one can see, no one can feel, no one will ever truly understand the language she speaks.
She stands leaning towards the water, empty canvas, sky above…
From her heart, through her hands she will be a creator today.
She is free.
Young lady, coffee to her lips, short dirt blonde hair, a crooked smile and worried eyes. Make her smile, She’ll make you smile…
Take my hand,
I’ll make her smile.
Young lady, hand runs through her hair
takes a sip of coffee and looks my way.
Take my hand, I’ll make you smile.
Freddy Zalta 