Medicine and the Music

Could it be dear life,
That every song I’ve sung
In the echoing heart of the old cathedral
Or the solace of my bordered room

Every liliting phrase
gifted
to a painted dream of sea
Or a bubbling sink full of yesterdays dishes

Is here
Today?

There is rhubato love
Pouring in velvet shades of light
from a nurse
Tending the wounds
of a weary old man

Staccato pain,
That suddenly grips the face of the
young girl
waiting
in the corridors
for the answer
she fears

Crescendos of emotion

Glissandos of expectation

And outside the grey window
A butterfly dances her
Adagio with the
perfumed heart
Of a flower

The music
Is everywhere

Even here in
Our crisp, white
Hospital

Turning the lyric of ordinary days
Into
Rapturous
life

Copyright 2009, M Goonetilleke