Only those who frolic on the shore
are certain the trumpets precede love.
Water glides under a frenzied red, white and blue
sky while India ink flows from quill to score.
As the maestro streams his music
across the Thames to people, thirsting for life,
pleasure boats trace tunes written in water;
reeds, in unfathomed pain, follow wild wakes.
One traveler fears he does not belong,
another dreams with her eyes open to love.
Two on shore lay with bodies intertwined,
harboring secrets of their rhythm together.
In the distance, water and music
rise to join the voluptuous sky.