Song Spirit

My song spirit of past days delivers appropriate comment. Thoughts trigger melodies ongoing in the city airs, uploaded into particles invisible, that he knows well how to catch.

Quick, he throws in the right phrase. Masterful in the art of capturing exact moments, almost a machine, he recovers musings leftover from sleep, memories believed to be forgotten, old coats hung in the cloakrooms of the past.

He lives by day and when night falls, keeps to himself, as we observe together. Dreams unfold in curiosity, dim meanings remain unvoiced. His silence has a purpose. He waits until length of waves travel back, and again fills my head with sound.

Upon awakening, song spirit catches passing vibrations almost solid, and pokes my ear. That I should know the song, it says exactly what we saw in dreams, that I should learn already.

Come the morning rays we yawn together, but he takes flight afresh, dismissing time. I asked him to stop for a moment but he answered twas impossible, for he catches moments riding sound waves, his work is play, when he tickles the sprites to release the song I had forgotten.