…I heard a song, a morning as I walked…
It came on as I passed…a song from far away, about a lost love. At least so I imagined,
I didn’t understand the words,
only the melody.
But in the low notes I could hear the loss one had suffered.. And in the
high notes understood too that it was a song about
something that could never be.
I had not wept in years.
But I did, there and then, on the side of a dusty street,
surrounded by strangers.
The melody stayed with me for years….
~ ` ~ (adapted from The memory of love, by Aminatta Forna)