in a queue at a theater or subway station,
heads touching while they sit on a park bench,
and I ache to hear the song that plays between them:
The stirring chords of romance's first bloom,
the stately airs that whisper between a couple long in love.
You can see it in the way they look at each other, the shared glances,
the touch of a hand on an elbow,
the smile that can only be so sweet for the one you love.
You can almost hear it, if you listen close.
Almost, but not quite, because the music belongs to them
and all you can have of it is...
a vague echo.
- Charles de Lint, Saskia, Moonlight & Vines