From where he sat upon the curb,
His eyes stared into mine.
Enchanting and mystical, so magical,
I had no thought to draw the line.
He played a simple wooden flute,
Truly magick to behold.
The notes almost water-like and sheer,
Like none that could ever be sold.
Darkened skin and piercing eyes,
I couldn't pull my gaze away.
The music kept on drifting, singing,
Like ther was no tomorrow, only today.
HIs dark eyes told of a weery past,
Of rich without a care.
A forever deepening secret surrounding us,
Of those that wouldn't dare.
As for what he saw,
I cannot say.
But I know he played just for me,
To make life pause along its way.
As I turned the corner,
He seemed to disappear.
Music still a whispering shadow,
Drifting ever near.
Was he really there,
Or just a trick of the eye?
I could still hear music playing,
As I whispered my goodbye.