Past Life

I ask myself, “is it possible?”

Past life, reincarnation,

a soul embarking on multiple journeys

in different spans of time.

As I look at their faces, I can’t help but wonder,

“Is it true? Could it be?

Who am I looking for?”

A face from a previous life,

perhaps a lover,

or a friend,

or even myself.

I fantasize a love transcending time,

one soul searching through abandoned pictures

for another forgotten over the years.

So many faces,

smiles of innocence,

hats tilted to the right,

clad in freshly pressed uniforms,

ignorant to the terror that awaits in foreign lands.

Did I have a beau

lost to the glorification of war?

Will I see him again?

Brief instances come like the wind.

Invisible,

free of form,

but felt even by the slightest touch,

the faintest smell,

and the familiarity of a song.

In a great hall, couples cling to each other

and every second of the passing night.

Hearts float,

half in raptures of love,

the other in anticipation of reality

rising with the dawn.

The band croons slow

of Sentimental Journey’s

and hopes of

I’ll Be Seeing You’s.

Soft murmurs intertwine with the sax,

“wait for me, darling, promise you will.”

Tears fall in reply,

a haste nod while lips curve for a kiss of wordless promises

and unequivocal love.

Relief ripples through the dance floor

as Serenade's of Blue

drifts above bobbing heads.

Young boys cling to the bosom of youth

and the final glows of summer.

Once parted, boys will become men,

immortalized in the shadow of war,

name and face, the very essence of their life

snuffed by bullets,

faded beyond their generation.

Perhaps then they return to the hall,

swinging with their lover,

forever living on the days of anticipation

when innocence was not yet replaced,

when the Kind of Swing was putting people

In the Mood.

An impressionable day,

an unforgettable night.

Marked on the heart of a soul,

forever traveling,

generation after generation,

surfacing with the harmonies

of Moonlight Serenade’s,

a late spring breeze tickling through the window,

when the stars are twinkling

and the moon shines with young love.

In the hues of twilight,

I’ll meet you back in the hall,

as promised once in a past life.