Notes

The music playing tinnily next door
Reminds me of a better time and place;
A different set of clothes, a fresher face
That had a smile on it once, and more
Than all of these, I had, before,
A quarry I was readying to chase,
And hunt into my welcoming embrace,
And she was happy with that fate. We wore
Upon each other, though, with too much care,
So now the songs we both used to desire,
Are hard to listen to, harder to hear;
The feeling is too raw. I wouldn't dare
To play that music on my own. But here
I cannot choose; and so I touch the fire.