The “phantasy” referred to in this poem is the Phantasy Quartet for Oboe and Strings, Op. 2, by Benjamin Britten. My daughter played this piece in her senior recital at Oberlin. (This You Tube recording is not her, but is very beautifully performed.)
A phantasy is playing
too quiet to hear
until I use my heart
to really listen
Spirits lifted by pure sound
I arrive just in time
to turn around and go again
until I can’t tell where
Is this home?
It looks familiar through the tears,
but I cannot stay long –
it is time to run back
to the song that is my real home,
where I can rest unafraid
to greet the sadness
awaiting with sweet comfort
upon my return
Poem ©Daniel von der Embse