Grassland Sonata

There is a cold air breeze, 

softly on the dusky grassland,

leading me down time’s easy path

until a five-year-old child looks up

in wonderment, and the lyrical, 

untuned piano played by his grandmother 

brightens the evening sky.

The chilly air takes me back 

into that five-year-old’s warm heart,

into a world seen through his eyes,

innocence that I think I remember so well.

The noises of that day, the dusty street, 

and my off-key singing mingle 

with my grandmother’s rendering 

of a long forgotten piece. 

That sliver of a sweet memory, 

carried gently on the evening’s 

cold air silence, meanders, merging 

into an airy stream of memories

of what was, of what could have been,

constantly flowing, fleeting, leaving me longing 

for the wonders of childhood’s innocence.