The Music we made

Sometimes music is like drowning
In a brackish pool
Sometimes Music is like
Drinking too much wine
Sometimes Music is like
Living and dying
Sometimes music is a curse
As well as a blessing
“When I play”, he said,
“I see colors and shapes”
I wondered
What color?
What shape?
The music I feel
In my soul is awful
And also beautiful
It comes back
Returning
Phrases and melodies
A refrain
Lost love
Something sentimental
In your noise ….
Music is like
Acid wash jeans
And old CDs
And plunking away on a beat up fender
Music is like that sometimes