These Things Cannot Be Measured

Wind was blowing, time stood still.
It was your music, the two of you,
That lifted the veil.
When the record player’s diamond stylus touched down,
We threw our arms up and danced.
The songs in your tall speakers fashioned of woven fabric
Are what molded my mind.
Later the scratched records with worn album covers
Became mildewed after they’d been stored
In the basement for too long.
Because cassettes triumphed over records now.
And your collection grew;
We continued to dance,
And sway and sing, and to feel the intangible thing
That the refrains and melodies exuded,
As if the universe would carry us as far as we dared
On the breath of its song,
Woven tightly amongst the quarks turning in spacetime.
These are the things that cannot be measured.
They can only be heard, and felt.
And still it kills me with a smile.
Miss you both.