The Song Remains The Same

             This song and its sound seem vaguely familiar. Have you followed me this far into the future?
            I recognize your sweet little face. The one without worry and wrinkles. I see that familiar smile. I know what you’re thinking. I know you’re not thinking about anything. I know you’re just living and breathing without worry.
            I’d worry a little if I were you.
            I can sing to your chorus. I still know every word, every inflection. I always will.
            The melody still moves me even if I can’t relate anymore. The music isn’t dated but I know it has a year and a month and a day. I know it has a place and a time but somehow it seems to have slipped away and traveled through time.            
            Do you hear that reckless joy? Do you feel that rebellious spirit?
            The singer sounds like someone I knew. The lyrics feel like something I memorized. The song is something I danced to in the dark under the moon and its glittering Christmas lights.
            I’ve searched for it but it’s never been there, not like this, not sounding like that. The singer gets older and the lyrics change and the sound tries to sound the same but it never does. It never quite does.
            The wind seems to know, to get it. A different day and another season.
            Yet the wind carries the echoes of a yesterday and sometimes and some nights I can hear it. Breaking through the silence. Playing over the noise.
            Night falls into a hole where the sun will spill out tomorrow.
         Distant echoes will fade and move like constellations above, shifting and changing and disappearing.
            The song remains the same.
            Like a dream you once remembered.
            Like a game you once played.
            Like a kid you once were.
            Like a kid you’ll always be. 

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