untitled 9

It is always the mystery that attracts.

That first enticing, ringing chord.

A voice that sounds otherworldly.

Words that evoke a place

That only the wildest of dreams can conjure.

That first listen.

A crackly car radio on a sweltering summer day.

A band in shadows luring you in from a distant stage

Amidst the sweat and stale, spilt drinks

A sleepy melody drifting from a neighbourhood window.

You want to catch it again, like a rare insect

But every attempt only dims the experience.