The droning of more music
Its pleasant company
To the tired heart
And wounded soul
Keeping up the pace
Never swaying in its rhythm
The keys and words
Stream in their consciousness of nothing
And this frayed and tattered
Flag called emotion
Sits and listens
Waits for its stillrain to stop falling
For its golden lightbeam to pierce through
Those clouds known only as shadow

02/08/2002

Posted on 02/08/2002
Copyright © 2024 Howard F Farewell