The notes skip and dance upon the page.
The melody lilts from a time gone by,
Slips, jigs, reels and airs.
‘Miss Otis regrets’ to ‘Carrickfergus’
‘The Croppy boy’ and ‘Thy watch and chain’.
Jogging a memory that can be seen.
I interpret these symbols and give them form,
Sounding each note on the guitar until it’s right.
Fashioning the inky dots and curves.
I’m up ‘till dawn.
I pluck the strings and finger the shapes of the chords.
The memories from the pages fly with a rhythmic cry.
…they toll a bell for a better world, ringing the changes.
Back then their word was true and the song was new.
More than one hundred years ago.
And then I imagine the etching of the scene,
That accompanies these songs and bring the music back to life.
© Sean P. Ransom.