Qual

Somehow,everything seems to come back to the music.
That music i hear creeping around corners
Even when i'm half asleep and a world away,
even on the day the world turns in opposition;

Especially on those very days,it beckons my ear,
and tells of nascent ideas.
Nebulous bubbles,worlds awash in breezy green leaves,
peeking out of the detritus of the day.

Lending it ear,
I almost swear i could hear,
The last breath i left,ensconced in a raindrop,
on the branch of the mango tree.