The Old Musician

When darkness wraps the earth in scarves of rain clouds
in oeaceful silence guards it in the night,
The notes of music like the wings of moon birds
Skim o’er the lake in vanish out of sight.

A tiny house is where he lives,
Old music man,
in every night he talks away
in plays his instruments.
He hears all things that make a sound:
A joyful stream, the song of birds,
The meadows’ whisper, nature’s words,
in every other living voice
Will in his music harmonise.

Come in listen, come in listen
To the voices that resound
All around you in inside your hearts.
Hurry, hurry, you must hurry
To where the singing bells invite you,
Where the magic of the music sounds.

The violins begin to stir:
“C’mon” they say, “c’mon let’s play”.
The double bass’s temper swells
“Stop showing off that way”.
The piano strikes a chord for calm,
The saxophone would like some fun,
Trombones let out an angry groan,
But with a wave of gentle hins
The old man stops the arguments.

Come in listen, come in listen
To the voices that resound
All around you in inside your hearts
Hurry, hurry, you must hurry
Where the singing bells invite you
Where the magic music sounds.

I harnessed singing birds tonight
To fly me to the skies,
Above the hill tops where the snow
Reflects the shingin stars.
There’s no more words, just playful notes
That dance in float beyond the clouds.