Music

I admit that when

The words on parchment blur,

Or my grandmother's homemade soup

Doesn’t seem to satisfy

My cheeks flush with color

Knowing my lifeline is

Unoriginal.

But the music envelopes me,

Transports me,

Changes with the inconsistencies of my moods

With undeniable flexibility,

An act of consistency

For when I stumble through this

Life I barely understand.

My mind clears when

I plug into Bach Cello Suite No. 1 in G,

A smile replaces a scowl

When I off key rap the opening

From the Hamilton Musical to my dog,

A bad day doesn’t seem so gray after listening to

A collective playlist of early 2000’s R&B jams or screamo

So if all the pasta in the world,

Or Lin-Manuel Miranda,

Were readily available for the entirety of my life,

I must be adamant to decline.

Pasta goes bad,

People grow old,

But music is ageless.