A Sixpack of PBR Poetry 4

The sound of the music always drifts me back through my mind.
To another time in my life I do venture.
Lost wondering along the Potomac I sit and gaze upon the past.
Simple aspirations of my future,
That have today come to pass.

To hear these notes of simple orchestra,
The epic tales of string they spin.
Transfix me today until I hear another blend of time.
I still sense the smells of that day.
The river, the carriage house, and gardens,
To my nose they do expose the rhyme.

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