Soundtrack to Life

If there were a soundtrack to my life,
the way we used to make up songs
on the piano and guess titles when we
were young and thought that life
would be simultaneously ordinary 
and exceptional, there would be moments
of the dirge, the mournful tones of
sorrow and despair, cellos and bassoons
in echo to French horns, but even more
of lilt and brightness, woodwinds singing
while a light percussion background
calls out invitations to the dance. That's
what I think, at least. Others might
interpret me as a series of poorly written 
jingles whose awful melodies make them
toss and turn at night, simply trying to forget,
or tinny karaoke mess that tries to be
what it is not. And that's okay. I only need a few 
to know me well enough to wade through
somber etudes with the faith that an allegro
will come soon. I just need one
who recognizes just the faintest note on
evening's breeze as mine and lifts a voice
to join in single, lovely, harmonizing tune.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014