Visions Fugitives

It was 1977 –

I was in an old country chapel
And fifteen years old
There with a “youth group”

Up early, to come and play
The old, battered piano

This is what I was playing
This piece of music
Was (and is), somehow, me —

I sit down now,
39 years later
And play another piece
From the same set of pieces
Called ‘Visions Fugitives’

Because this piece, too
(and was)

Music is not always a uniting force;

But love of music is


Or should be

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