Poem: Music in a Foriegn Language

Music in a Foreign Language

French cafe music wafts
off the radio as you drive,
the top down,
oblivious of the trucks and cars
that pass you on the interstate,

your mind lost
in the sound of music
in a language whose words
you do not understand,
yet whose soul,
you do;

and so you listen, lost
in the croon of romance
to matchstick guitars,
a thing foreign,
yet hungrily yearned for

as you drive the long miles
to a place you call home,
despite it's emptiness.
The song's words caress your hope,
bringing you joy and sadness,
all at once, a lullaby
of all that is misunderstood
and desired.

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The picture is of a double decker bus that lives, not in London, but in front of a pub in St. Augustine Florida, one of my favorite places to eat in the entire universe. You can click on it for a larger version. And yes, I really do love French cafe music and no, I really don't understand the words when I listen. You figure.

Tom