Melodic Memory

The morning melodeon
deeply breathes in the arms
of a talented man
sat on the traffic
island,
wrapped in winding
bicycles and taxi cabs.

Amongst it all, the fog
of gruff chugs, thick
grumbling exhaust,
those notes capture
and capsule my heart,
send it first class
to the Seine,
panning out
that one memory
of an Autumn
some time ago.

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