by Casey Criswell
Haunted by lost loves, I stop to enjoy the passing smile full of warmth and promise. She glances back over her shoulder, coy and inviting setting my heartstrings tight to pluck out a familiar tune with an airy wave of her fingers. I wanted nothing more than that smile, that glimpse but I walked away once before with the strings reduced to a downcast funeral dirge. Now though, the strings play a song of excitement pattering allegro through crescendos loud and boisterous. I'm reminded briefly of the coda of that time once before, the familiar adagio strains of remorse and sorrow, but the thoughts are fleeting. I've always been a fan of the de capo, revisiting a familiar theme, relishing in the measures once again and as I see it, the piece is only improved with repeated practice.
Casey Criswell normally writes about all things horror at his blog Cinema Fromage, so he's not exactly sure what happened here. He can tell you that he's a sucker for a pretty face though.