Eight Note Time Machine

Isn’t it stupid
that it only took eight notes
of a song long unheard
to squeeze my chest
as unseen hands tightened
around my neck.
Suddenly the world was a blur
and my sight unclear.
The damn words hadn’t even started
but the effect was just the same.
I was already there.
Already miles and years away.
Clover.  All at once I could smell
the sweet spring scent of clover.
And just a hint,
just a whiff of Taboo
mixed with that sweetness
that only came from you.
I could feel your hand
resting naturally in mine
and the sound
of the light swish of the grass
as our legs brushed past.
There were no words.
There never are
when this damn song
takes me back there.
Back to this soft light,
this peaceful meadow
filled with faint sounds of spring,
where the air has just a touch
of warmth from the sun.
Where there is no real thought,
only feelings.
Feelings of the mild euphoria,
of new love, of promises,
of dreams lost
and of your arm brushing
mine with each step.
Miles and years away.

Michael Mathews
March 16, 2015
9:28 AM Monday
RV at the lake