Distant journey, locked within unspoken dreams,
should no longer sway tender reeds of the soul.
Time has passed, youth has passed, faith has come and gone again.
Yet, in the quiet of unexpected moments, his music still lingers here,
more than echo of what could have been,
more a refrain of what should have been.
Neither year, nor season, nor day passes
without taste of mountain kisses,
without scent of citrus, leather, and possibility,
without music of the siren's jazz.
And, the lieutenant still remains.