Song Stroke

there’s a certain age

in one’s youth

not a fixed date,

when for all of us

a door opens in the soul

and music floods in,

we thrash around excitedly

within its hypnotic balm,

bathe, cavort, dance, fuck

alive to beauteous tunes,

but those magical days

slide by, passing unnoticed

on a blissful lazy current

and inch by inch the

all-consuming deluge subsides

leaving its indelible watermark

that inks us for a lifetime,

it’s this invisible brand

we still touch with

fingertips and tongues

tapping out the rhythms

of that lost youthful time,

that daring, care-free, reckless

maniacal age when we

all could have drowned

but luckily learned to swim

Published by grahamrsherwood