In New York City, a glorious temple
dedicated to the glory of Music.
There, diligent disciples pay homage
singing various songs
in diverse tongues.
Not long ago
from the temple
a song dear to my heart.
I sat swaying to the song
my rocking chair creaking
a bottle of wine heightening my senses
my head at rest on my bookshelf behind me
tears soon waltzing down my cheeks, salting my lips
sweet the pain of remembrance.
Nya Joy was her name
it was with her I last heard the song
souls in trance us two
blissfully riding on the ethereal wings of Music.
Now that she resides in the netherworld,
this Joy of a Nya,
I wonder if she still loves to dance.