Something About a Harmonica

by John Herlihy

There is something about a harmonica,

Not the harmonica itself, but its sound.

A ripe sound as if familiar with longing,

Sound that seeks a sense of belonging.

The instrument neatly nestled in hand,

Producing music as if nothing planned.

The breath of the player comes alive,

Notes as cords desperate to survive.

Rhythms from some far horizon wide,

Emotions emerged of souls that cried.

Hypnotic music echoes a sad adagio,

To ride forth on the wind pianissimo.

Of where the player such feeling stole,

Drawn from depths of the human soul.

To enter eager ears of yonder crowd,

Transported beyond with head bowed.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Friday 24 October 2025