tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-160731629459950531.post6128242625015830565..comments2023-11-05T02:14:23.474-08:00Comments on Confessions of a Traveling Music Teacher: SonDoug Goodkinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07092282268914985541noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-160731629459950531.post-65082592510564250482014-05-07T12:58:09.422-07:002014-05-07T12:58:09.422-07:00Turnaround
Sadness repeats its sickly soft refrai...Turnaround<br /><br />Sadness repeats its sickly soft refrain<br />Without which Being feels so out of tune;<br />I cannot help but wonder when, again,<br />Or what, will cause the song to stop, rough hewn<br />With syncopated ax by mine own hand<br />They cannot, will not, dare not understand.<br /><br /><br />But comes a time apart to hear old melodies<br />Beloved, joyful; shaping new from old;<br />White crested waves blow in from endless seas;<br />While shells of laughter wash in on beaches cold.<br /><br />Listen, my heart, to music shared, don't wait<br />For relentless themes that refuse to yield control;<br />With each wave comes the chance to recreate<br />And orchestrate the music of your soul. <br /><br />I was thinking of you today; one of the teachers I most respect in the world. I wish we could talk so I could explain why I was so strange and unable to meet your expectations. Nonetheless, this is I think the best thing I have produced. Written Dec. 2013 in Boston, during a snowstorm. Please don't reproduce it without asking. Jean<br /> Jeanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03670046863098778215noreply@blogger.com