Awe, Teabag is getting so old. Love ya G. #poemsoftheheart Music strokes a memory cord. The mind, the mind...is where we hoard; a box of flashbacks, stories told. Inside the notes often holds; a chime, note, pitch or sound; can bring a world crashing down. A miracle a sound can be, entire lifetimes surface to see. Sunlight streaming, uncannily so. A melody can have a glow; like a single capsule of time, stung together in mind's rhyme.