coaxing the musty reverberations of wood.
An enlightened soul,
surfacing in a plaintive melody.
Sustaining, now staccatto, always swaying,
swaying to the rhythm of a poet's heartbeat.
Oh, the Solitary Hand,
bravely wielding this instrument
of temporary death.
1 comment:
Sara,
That is completely awesome. Beautiful. I can't describe what it means to me --really! Thank you my dear, you definately have a talent for writing of every kind!
Love you
Ashley
Post a Comment