Popcorn.
He never really cared for the stuff.
Pesky kernels get stuck in the teeth you know.
Then stay there for a lifetime.
...ah, but music!
Now there's something to love, to enjoy, to be
Into.
So we went to the small, local performance.
The day so sweet.
The air smooth. The sky approvingly blue.
It was an outdoor show.
The trees without intent danced to the rhythms.
All was well, all content, as the music freed souls and minds
from all menacing memories.
Darrell hummed, and sang along, smiling,
Clapping,
And even, lost in the wonderous waves of song,
Eating popcorn;
His old foe, in the moment, found fondly.
...the mystery of music; amazing grace
That can drive out the demons of the past,
And restore the memory of words long unsung.
Intwined in the blessed bliss of the moment
There he sat, smiling, so satisfied, singing along, and
Munching merrily on the dreaded popcorn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hey, Smoky! This poem is a different, a unique, entry into the effects of music on us. I particularly like the sky approvingly blue. -Glen