The sound of a bass guitar is moving a row of distant wheat to the east. 
The sun is shining just like in the beginning. 
Swaying back and forth like rhythmic dancers.
They are captured on a cloud of silent time.
No names are necessary; they know each other from previous lives. 
The drummer is quietly playing my favorite song, and yours too.
His past love is sitting behind me staring intently, but not intentional.
They make no eye contact. 
A soft breeze is moving through the crowd under a sky that could care less. 
Don’t talk to me, I’m not listening through my ears. 
These moments are like relatives: here today, gone tomorrow. 
Enjoy what you can and leave the rest to others.
Play on.