The beginning's pure and mellow,
Invites the senses to follow.
Every lyric as it prospers
Every poetic rhyme in sweet pairs.
With caution, each line is measures;
With love, each note is appended
As the rhythm quickens
To the beat of the drum.
The clatter of the guitar
Resonates in background.
New words in the second stanza
Same tune remains in Diaspora
The feeling invokes euphoria
The senses are in enigma.
The refrain is an improvement
Of every line, of every fret.
Yet, the cadence falters
In step with the piano,
The cymbals in whisper,
The voice in soprano.
Chorus is the spice of the song.
It conveys cues of right and wrong,
Of hate and love, of peace and strife,
Of a man who's always on a stride.
The ad lib brings back interest
Albeit words not among its midst.
Instruments in concert
Trying to be their best.
The singer's exhausted
Only hoping to rest.

At last, the coda is fading.
Yet, another new beginning . . .

© REY ADEL JULY 06, 1988