Love letters and poems (vol 4)
by Staff Writer
I wrote this years ago, a few months after I met someone who would prove to be an incredible awakening in my life. I remain grateful and full of love that I met him then–and know him now. I do hope he still plays, but if the notes catch the breeze and find me again I’ll know that the sound is for him. And that he plays because his soul feels free…
Saxophone on the wind
The shout of the soul
Sounds—serenading the breeze
And is echoed as the evening falls
And twilight takes a seat.
Notes bounce from star to star
Cascading from the sky
And fall about one tiny soul
Who thought the song had passed her by.
Does he play for me—she thought
Or for a time that’s gone
But as he touched her soul tonight,
He warmed her with his song.
Did You Enjoy this Post? Subscribe to Long Relationships. It's Free!
November 20th, 2006 at 2:43 pm
Wow! You write so poetically about this guy and his horn. I hope he knows how lucky he is to still have you in his life. If he doesn’t, tell me and I’ll find him and beat some sense into him.
I play the sax, but I’m very coarse with it, so it’s unlikely I’d offer to play it for someone as he must have for you. I prefer the soft peacefulness of my acoustic guitar nowadays. Maybe someday I can inspire in a woman the type of poetry this guy has inspired in you.
I wish i had more time to take my guitar into my little walled garden and play softly. I’m no good really, but magically, everything seems better in the garden.
November 20th, 2006 at 3:01 pm
Well, I’ve always told him that I was the lucky one and that I didn’t need to hear anything back from him. About 85% of the time, that’s true. (As I’m sure you can tell, I can make up some fairly good material to boost the ego.)
Sometimes though, it would have been nice to hear a trickle or two of emotion or flattery. It was never the right moment, for him or for me, I think.
November 20th, 2006 at 4:07 pm
If you ever get the opportunity, you should tell him so. I would imagine that a guy like that would be flattered simply by your desire to hear something flattering from him. Even if it was never the right moment for him to express it, the romantic in me wants to believe it was in his heart. Some guys though, are just too densely self focused sometimes that although they can perceive the beauty before them, they can’t act upon it when they should.
I had a friend similar to the one of which you speak. With her, I could lay in bed reading poetry and know that she would devour every word, then take the book from me, flip a few pages and give some back. It was an intellectual and romantic tangle, our minds and bodies, and I loved it while it lasted.
November 20th, 2006 at 11:54 pm
I used to write poems once and its like the sax playing…all those emotions lost to the wind, to the moment, to memories.
You don’t even remember what touched your heart except that maybe something touched you.
November 21st, 2006 at 8:48 am
I think I was always afraid of asking…wondered if the thoughts in my head were safer and worth more. Part of me feared that if I asked and didn’t hear what I hoped, then even my thoughts would be a distant memory. My only regret is that I let that fear hold me back so that I was not always myself around him.
Ultimately, I was more content to wonder and hope–that he was playing for me, rather than a time that had long passed.
November 21st, 2006 at 4:53 pm
If you ask me, it’s a sad thing when all a man can do is play for a time long passed. Certainly the past (whenever that might have been) leaves its imprint, as does every moment since and every moment now. Creating a symphony of all of those experiences, those memories of happiness, pain, pleasure, that is the more full approach. When I play, I play for it all, because it’s the all that makes up me, yet at the same time, I pay special attention to the here and now because it’s in there that my current lover lies.
I can’t speak for this man to which you refer, but if he’s anything like me, your insecurity is unfounded.