There Is Music Poem by Peter S. Quinn

There is music
In everything that's passed,
There were love songs
That never could last;
They came to this world
Ever so sweet,
They were sounds
From the city and street,
They were moments
For you and your mood,
They were also for others
Their spiritual food;
Full of all shorts of contrasts
Of love and of hate,
They were thoughts
That came to you in various states.

Each this moment of sound
Is to be grateful for,
For we hear them in tempers
That carries us through;
It’s life itself and everything
That comes and goes,
And if you'll ever be without hope
And never too sure,
You just have to listen again
To a sound that's true,
To remember those songs
Your soul still knows.