Part 4
by Jeffrey Murrell

She dances freely without concern
About what others may think.
She sings her songs and falls in love
With each one over and over again.
And she consumes them eagerly
So they become part of her body;
They alone save her soul from anguish and pain
And give her hope and promise her strength.

And she is music, not just a song,
Beautiful and melodic, changing and hypnotic.
Reminding at times of things already done
And telling of future things yet to come.
But how strange she at times lacks harmony,
At least to the naked eye.
What a paradox she presents
For certain most-fortunates
Drawn into her sphere by fate
And existing there through sheer grace
Always searching for conciliation,
But growing either passive or weaker,
As if falling asleep to her sounds
Trying more and more to understand them
Trying ever more to make her understand,
As if to try to rerecord in one's head
Her songs on a phonograph album.

And some of her songs are scratched and skip,
The result of many a pain.
And, like the album, she does not know,
Allowing them to continue to play.
And, like the skipping tunes, it grates
On the listener's ears again and again,
And it all eventually so frustrates
That the listener eventually comes to hate
Those sounds that skip and come to taint
The beauty of her other songs with delay
Which is caused by those scratches of fate.

And the listener is realizing gradually
That the needle must be shifted occasionally,
Ever so discretely and gently
With tender care and understanding
In order to hear all her lovely melodies.
And that can be a formidable task indeed
When his own record is always skipping!
But together their music is so happy,
Despite their collective scratchings.
And they play each other's songs quite freely,
Each tune each time going through a re-writing,
Getting better and better, promising sweetly
To keep them together for all eternity,
And perhaps to vanquish their pasts discretely
And make their lives more worth living
So they can continue to play their songs in harmony
And make their world a wonderful place to sing