I slump on an ancient bench in Florence

Exhausted from the day’s toils.

And let my mind be a wanderer...

He navigates the lands of the day we had.

He explores what I said 

And hikes across all the wrongs I've done.

He scrambles over who I should’ve been

And scales what I’ve seen.

Checks my aching feet,

traverses my aching heart.

And just when he is depleted,

My ears like a horse, pick up in the distance,

Something that knocks him off his wandering path.

I stand and follow the sound

Louder it grows and my heart fills with sound waves.

Another lost wanderer explores his cello;

Bach's first concerto.