Love, met in eyes
Carson Du
1 Sunset Violin
Part 1__________
A piece of sea, a wisp of sunset;
low hills stretch its arms from both sides embrace the warm English bay;
“give me your hand, let me hold it to that day, when I met Christy, and my story begins."
A few log, a few sea birds flittering over, and fall down at the edge of water, step on shallow footprint on beach of light yellow sand
Sky sits in peace, listen to my memory across in the silence of morning
My violin sings even without touch, it sounds on my back in my jumping steps.
Breeze as smoke, with a kiss, wake up the ocean in silvery flute of ray,
English Bay was in silence, as waves flittering on the shore with water flower lace.
I stopped by the bench aside the seawall, where I played my violin that day;
The seawall, called as “walking in romance”, curving a circle surround Stanley Park by the ocean,
My violin was on my shoulder, I started to play;
A wheelchair stayed on side of the path; a lady sat in it, her silver white hair was fluttering in the wind;
People walked around, some laid down on the grass reading book, and some stopped by the paintings for selling, and I played song floating inside me,
The dusk was getting darker, and the night was wandering in the slope of low hills.
Memories flows my playing, the face, the smile ….. cooing like a creek inside of me,
They are alive, they are singing with me, vividly, freshly, in my touching, in my feeling, in the love of violin sound;
The breeze over the ocean is their whispers, the ripple spread over the shore is their smiling;
I was playing along the road I have passed, the grass, the flower, when I crossed the ocean, when I flew over the sky, the English Bay, the Stanley Park, the dear Vancouver, ripple in vast velvet water land under the gracious white clouds……
Is the sunset a great concert for the Ocean?
Is the English Bay the greatest stage for the sunset?
O, they are, they are players for each other; they are audience for each other,
I was only a little part of them, I was playing in them, I was praying for them, with my heart, with my love in humble.
The wheelchair was rolling forward me while I was playing;
The lady, she was smiling, her eyes was glistening in the ray of twilight;
I hold my bow on strings, turned around while my sound singing in air, and I smiled on her,
“Hi mom, how are you?” I said to her,
“Hi young man, I stayed for a while, and listened to your play …..I enjoy it, thank you",
She hold out one of her arms, opened her winkle palm:
A toonie, (two dollars coin in Canada) was on it.
"Ow, mom, thank you, no, I…." my voice murmuring, I lower my head to her.
"That’s ok, take it...." she shaking her stretched arm, her face in brilliant shining;
“I really like you play,” she said, “thank you, thanks your music companion me, in this gorgeous sunset, in the sound of wave”,
"Oh, thanks ....thank you so much for your so beautiful words,” I bent my body to her, and hold her shoulder;
She rolled her wheelchair closer, loaded the coin in my violin case.
We smile on each other, face to face, my heart filled with gratefulness, the warmth ripple all over in each cells of my body;
The moment in love, the moment for the music;
Two stranger met in the sound of violin, around the Bay, around the ocean, the fountain of music.
The dusk came to the end with silence, the whole Bay covered in the last golden red rays of sunset;
We chatted a bit, as the Ocean’s laughter of wave clapping on the rocks by the shore;
I pulled her wheelchair closer to the bench, I sat with her, as the seagulls were whirling and chirping above us;
My eyes on her, a lovely old lady, seems in her late of 80s, the winkle carving on her face infused full of kindness.
Each winkles, the time’s print, the life’s ripple, left on her face, with the happiness and sorrow, the gentle and rude, sweet and bitter, and smooth and rough…….
She sat in her wheelchair so poise, so calm, and the spirit of her heart opened and flew high, to the sky like a group of birds, over the waves of ocean;
What a free soul of music in love.
She smile on me, “You keep your play, and I have to go.”
"Thank you, it's so nice to meet you, the evening is so beautiful.”
I bent my body to huge her, and my face touched hers, a touch in warmness between her and me;
She rolled her wheelchair slowly away, and she waved her right arm to me without turning.
My eyes followed her, her wheelchair was rolling away, her silky hair softly fluttering in the musical wind.
That coin was in my violin case, a gift for our meet, a knot tied two souls into one.
I hope someday I will meet you again, my dear lady,
I murmured her name, Christy,
the melody of wave sounds the shore in the bay, and the sky and the Ocean melt together far away in the line of silvery horizon.
Part 2________________
A wisp of cloud like a silky scarf around the waist of low hills;
Autumn start turning their leaves green to rusty red.
The English Bay laid in Ocean’s arm, like a baby sleep in the wave’s lullaby
My violin was in my arms, I sat on that bench, plucked strings, let it sounds like guitar in nocturne…..
Immersed in the sound of crooning of wave and the crying of seagull, I hear life’s harp playing in this harvest season.
A piece of leave fell down into my violin case, a green private greeting?
O, …… see, who is coming…… she rolled her wheelchair forward me.
"Hey Christy, is that you?" I hold my voice down in glee;
"Hi Carson, hey, nice to see you again….”
She smiled, her voice was crystal like the wind over the Ocean
I bent my body, hug her in my arms;
“See the sky, joined ocean with silvery color, they meet together, isn’t it?”
"Thank you saying that, they are happy, like us.. haha…”
“Heard the birds? they shouted while they’re flying up, crying what? ..love ...hello…?"
"Haha… yes they do, they are flying free, and they are singing love…. "
"What are you going to play?" she asked in low voice.
I jumped my bow over my strings, “Soso mi…‘sailing in the wind’," I said in smile.
Then I played, in the pace of slow with gentle;
She was listening, "Sounds like you miss somebody, don’t you?" she said when I end my bow;
"the missing is flowing,” I joking with her;
"Who make it of this piece?"
"It was I".
"You? haha... that's so nice, you also make some music….. you miss someone?"
“….haha…no, I am joking, … O, yes, just something in me, for a moment, for a girl I have met,”
“Isn't it? Play what in your mind, that’s nice, mm... … and you make it in music, …you make me recall something neither when I was your age." she said.
"Oh yeah, you too? In your youth time….."
"Youth time, yeah, like fresh green grass,"
I hold my violin in my arms, I sat on the bench, and my hand hold her wheelchair.
We were talking, in the quietness of evening by the Ocean,
A rill, cooing on between us; we were sitting there, let wind flows through our shoulders;
We met each other again, we both love quiet music, enjoy life in calm and peaceful;
The sun has set down below the horizon, the glow was dying whole of sky in varies of layers of clouds in golden, in grey, in pink, and in purple, like thousands flower blooming in the sky at the moment.
She sat beside me, like our earth, magnanimous, kind, peaceful
“You want play more?” she asked.
“No, I’d like to sit here with you, and be quite.”
“I play piano when I was young,”
“Ow…. that’s great, thank you to tell me,”
“When I play, I often play what in me too, as you did, let the music flows itself ….that’s why I feel so good as you play...."
"Are you missing somebody too?" I smiled on her,
"you mean love, someone you love?..... O, my lover…. haha.... that is…..you’re making me cry..."
“Ow, no …… ” I said to her softly.
She smiles, waves her arms in air, her eyes moist with light of tears.
......
"You have a girlfriend?" she asked,
"Not really," I answered her,
"But you had, tell me your love story somehow, don’t you?"
"haha....ok, I would like to….my lover…"
“the music is just feeling love, about people’s feeling ….
“See, a gentle man plays accordion there, you feel the motion in his music?.... his play has love in the sound,”
"Yes, indeed, music, the most beautiful thing under the sky."
The evening was almost in the dark blue, the most beautiful blue, between the day and night.
The love, the love’s story, the moments we had in our past, immersed into it, with purple,
we were nearly whispering each other.
Someone you met in short time, and you have willing to tell her all your secret;
Christy is the one,
I want to tell her, my stories is coming in me…. I have willing to tell her anything, everything, love, sex, the secret part of my life,
And she said that she had a plan to write down about her love stories, about the sex,
“Hey, me too, O Christy, we….. I sometimes think about it, and my friends wanted me to do it too.” I said;
“Write it down,” she said, and she said that she would have written it if not a car incident made that plan vanished, and she was so sorry about it.
"I am too old and too late, so I’d like to tell you…...write them down, and right now.”
"Love is beautiful, but I has concerns to write them down, about sex.” I said,
“No matter, just write them, love, sex, the two side of a coin,
She smiled at me.
I would like to write them down to her, maybe just for her, tell her, my dear Christy.
I hold her arm, her shoulder leaned on my shoulder.
We both face to the ocean, listen to the sound murmuring in darkness; and we hold each other, watching the sun was stepping to the ocean’s bed.
“Thank you Carson, thank you for you playing”, she said that again, and she was rolling away, raise her right hand when I was watching her;
And she suddenly turned around this time, cast me a few words,
"What is your first love story? Tell me about it, or, send me email, won’t you?"
She raised her arm, a big smile lit on her face, and she had gone.
I stood there still, raising my arm in air.
"Yeah, my first love story, Ow, my first one, that was not love, it’s only sex...."
The evening was coming to its end; the darkness of night slowly embraced the whole Bay.
Part 3____________
I walked on the path along the Ocean, somebody played accordion under the evening’s blue dome;
The memory like songs floating in me, it ripples over the surface of water,
It spread away……the road I have been, the path of my life; the ranges of mountains, up and down; the stream of river, bent and straight; and the cloud of sky, clear and rain……
It’s a long walk, years step in month, month step in day, one by one, sound music on road,
Now I’m still walking, stand on the top of the life,
looking at the slope I have climbed behind me, and downhill I step on before me,
the sunlight warms my heart, and love’s melody in life is beautiful like the ripple over the water;
Still feel those sense of kiss, sense of touch, and the sense of embraces;
And the imagination in recalling is a magic, it has being stored in cell of time so long, and only those moments has been filtered into crimson wine,
The melody of music in life has be remembered, sweetness like flowers, blooming in whole sky in my heart.
My violin plays in me, the sound flows in those moments…..
They make me happy, make me sorrow;
they make me laugh, and make me cry……
Tears follows smile, and clam goes by crazy…...
People sat on the bench, in silence, watched and listen's ocean singing its waves;
Lovers hand hold hand, stopped, watching the sunset over the water, listen and walked away…..
Every girl and lady, who I have met, have love with, have sex with, they are beloved, all of them, each of them, the kissing, hugging, fondling, laughing and tearing……
I love the love I have made with them, and I remembered the words they talk with me;
They become part of me, vivid in my mind, vivid as if happened today;
Through so many years, they are still beautiful, the current of time never wash them fade away;
But I am still shy to write them down, those sex in love, that seems should only kept in secret;
Then the sound of Christy, the sound in email from her played:
"You may write them down, like the music that pop up in your mind when you play…...don't be too late before you got older.
“The most valuable thing is what happened in your mind, not what we have done in reality;”
The sunset's red ray cast on hill outside of window, while evening was in dark blue hue.
A group of seagull flying over the sky over the water, they are singing songs,
I don't know what they are singing,
“It would be nice to share your sex love stories with people, as the sex is as beautiful as the love."
"The memories have their own life, they live inside of me, so I think it is the same in you;”
“They are still alive once they have been recalled, they are like our second life inside of us, and even more charming when it happened;” she wrote.
"I agree, dear Christy, I agree," I hold her words in my heart;
"When I recall them, they are smiling and swaging in their songs,
And love is beautiful, and how about sex love?”
“Love and sex, it has their natural life itself, as cow, as sheep, free in the field, stay together, love each other, and make love together; …..in the breeze, under the blue sky, as natural as ripple in a creek, leaves in forest, and flowers on earth."
"It don't matter what the sex it is, it's depends on how you see it, how you write it. And you may just write it,"
"And for sure, it’s the matter the way you have sex with, or, if you made in love or not;"
I read these word, I am as if under a fall, be washed, be bathed in fresh, and be cleaned in new.
"Thank you Christy, thank you for saying that. I really appreciate it." I write her back.
"So you go," she writes, "go forward it."
In the bay, the sun is yielding its glorious in purple evening;
A few boats stayed on the surface of water;
Someone plays harp on the shore, and the wind is blowing in gentle,
The love, the music, the violin, the piano, and the waves of ocean like flowers filled life’s slope of mountain in beauty of harmony.
O my dear friends, if you still here, you know how I met Christy, and how my story begin to sing;
The sunset cast its smile on the word inside me with its glory,
Flower trees along the road like a group of kids, dancing and cheering, and ray of dusk glimmered over the velvet ocean with dots of silvery diamonds,
Byby English Bay, byby my dear friends, let me hold your hand, we’ll go home,
We’d better hurry, for the memory started jumping inside of me;
I’m going to play my keyboard, as play my violin, to tell my “first love” story.
