Many, perhaps most or indeed, all of us, daydream from
time to time.  Some choose to sit in the quiet of morning
while watching the silence of a golden sunrise, others
may choose to sit with a book and devour its contents and
some may choose a park bench as a ‘people watcher’…

The are countless ways to visit the recesses of the mind.
My friend, Daniel, loved classical music, old bicycles and

Now I wonder…did my friend Daniel ever exist except in my

Elton John knew Daniel…

“Daniel is traveling tonight on a plane
I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain
Oh, and I can see Daniel waving goodbye
God, it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes.”

by Elton John and his lyricist Bernie Taupin  (1973)


And now, Daniel as I was introduced to him:


daniel listened to bach’s toccata and fugue in d minor
while resting in the shadow of pachelbels canon

music brought tears of empty remembrance
of days at his mother’s worn and beaten piano

daniel, an only child, now seventy-six and quite old…
sat alone but for classical sounds and memories

the constant drone of tinnitus flowed like running water until
with no hope to stop the hindrance, he played it into his song

sleeping with music beneath his head he once dreamed
of steam locomotives, bicycles, and flying machines

but still it was the music of his soul that lived on
in that part of his heart that stored treasures and dreams

with closed eyes daniel could see notes floating like apparitions
streaming with the ease of fat cotton clouds of a summers day

he could feel every piece of broken wood and each chipped key
on that old piano where he learned to dream

songs never came easy, songs never came at all
but daniel heard music in his heart that his fingers never felt

he saw steam locomotives, bicycles, and flying machines
and heard bach’s toccata and pachelbel’s canon in d minor

was it the perceived smell of cornbread from the kitchen
the rhythmic pelting sounds of rain against his windowpane

wherever memories are born and whatever awakens them
tears are okay when played on the concerto of the heart

crossing gates dropped and bells rang out a railroad symphony
as an approaching train’s whistle gave rise to the melody

with closed eyes he heard bach’s toccata and fugue in d minor
while resting in the shadow of pachelbels canon and steam locomotives

daniel had long since learned that the music of tears
is felt only in the silence of the heart