Dear Dreams, Dear Diary

As he lolled around the square circus,
on the pavements below the city tower;
through brassy displays of gold and hocus,
a stream of sound rose above the hour.

Melodies of Bach atop undisturbed strings,
dancing and floating with the gentle breeze;
though rowdy winds the passers-by fling,
her music guards this sanctuary of peace.

Her Mozart stirred his dark oblivion,
when worldly frets were the zeals of youth;
those duets with friends — now in obsidian,
for a time long gone are his tears and ruth.

What vivacity of life her Vivaldi inspires!
Though suffer we must for a truthful art;
to the gutters and glories of life he aspires,
The Street — is life before our unseeing eyes.