Wind-down window worlds have long gone past
Replaced by air conditioned comfort zones,
Still music did consume my car and cast
Away my wind-up window’s silent tones.
A slow crescendo pulled beside my car
Of music made to make me feel and move
The opera pumping thumping was bizarre
As it persuaded me into a groove.
I rolled my window down and bobbed my head
To music from a language I don’t know.
From operatic music I was led
To empathize with passion and let go
Of things that held my mind in structured form
Instead I danced to opera in my seat.
Tonight I’ll tune to tenors that transform
My setting to a wind-down window beat.
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