The Street Organ

The street organ plays
Its blithe tune through the town,
Winding down the alleys with the yellow
Leaves
It meanders down bleak avenues where
The copper-green monuments stare
At nothing…
It passes them by unheard
Waltzes with the ribbons of distant winter air
The messengers of snow…
Moon-struck and gold
It croons with the lullbabys that full
The babies back to wombs
Confuses time with its merry sombre chiming
Calling back the old
Conjures daughters, lovers, sons
Fears, mothers, seasons, minutes
Lost and found, lost love, spring and nothing
She sings like a bird that wakes up warm
And thinks the winter’s over
The street organ’s music is heard
For the first time here and the last time
There
And not at all
Cathedral quiet and narcotic seas
In a mind of tide-mark memories…
The strand of hair that falls in front of her face…
He woke up and called out her name
But only the street organ answered
The street organ plays down every road
Moon-struck and gold