When I whistle wistfully,

And the mournful melody 

Takes me by the hand,

I’m not sure at first

If it wants to walk with me,

Or dance with me, right there,

In the river sand under the stars.

Something overtakes me.

Is it sleep?

Or has the music drugged me?

A hypnotic state enthralled me, 

And now, I’m gone.

And now, I’m in Paris, riding in a car.

Speeding through gives me 

The impressionistic feel I’ve seen in paintings.

The rumbling purr of the tires on a brick street,

And thud! We’ve hit something,

Or somebody.

We slow the car to try to find

A place to turn around.

I look out my window

And see a gray bridge and a river

Rushing under it.

My tears must feel a kinship to

The sterling goddess of the waters,

For now my eyes send forth an offering.

And as I cry,

I search,

But all I see

Are rows and endless rows 

Of tall apartments,

And while none of them seem like home to me,

I hear a disconsolate melody

Coming from one window.

It triggers a pensive memory

Of some home I’ve forgotten,

And then, I’m lost again.

-jenn