IN THE CLAMOUR OF THE CITY
In the clamour of the city I heard music soft and low
Wafting enchantingly from somewhere I did not know,
It seemed to weave a spell around my tired mind,
A more appealing sound would be very hard to find.

I wondered if others heard the sound that beaconed me,
Calling me from the noise of the overcrowded city,
Everyone was all hurry and scurry, rushing everywhere,
Not hearing that gentle music calling me through the air.

Was it getting louder as I drew near the gently lapping lake?
What instrument was playing? Pan pipes? May be a mistake!
But it sank deep into my heart causing a longing ache
As I searched for that music, for my own sanity’s sake.

There by the lake where ships were tethered safely down,
Sat an old man, clothed in rags, very dirty, wearing a frown,
He stopped playing and spoke in a voice that was rich and deep,
It sounded as sweet as the music, almost made me want to weep,

“ I’m the Pied Piper, but no one hears my sweet melody.
Unless they have a child’s heart and a longing for the sea,
Will you come and follow the pied piper, far, far away?
Come, and no longer have trials and worries every day.

He played again, I cried as I wrenched myself around,
Being torn apart, between duty and that joyful sound,
I started to run and found comfort in the busy city street,
Then with a another type of joy my family I did meet.

M Ann Margetson © June 27, 2001