London Poem: Day 56

12 October

The sound that burns comes effortlessly,
Though all of the other nonsense
That muddles and gets in the way.
It’s easy to ache for what is missing,
When the taste lingers and sounds remind
Of that moment.
Oh, but how easy it is to dismiss what lays ahead
When sounds arching shapes
Hold no bearing because
They have yet to be heard.
To be surprised
Excites more than nostalgia
May ever offer,
And it is merely waiting for new sounds
To awaken and excite.

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