Soft morning, the gentle rain
Plucks the earth
As falling breathy notes
Harmonizing rebirth
Sighing, soothing melodies
Drenching the earth in song
Yielding to the sonata of sun:
Warm, vibrant, strong
And the music calls forth life
Bursting choirs of green
Accompaniments of blooms
Singing to the known and unseen
Maestro of song.
She sent me her soul,
Her song, and I sing it
In the dark I linger
Ancient sparks flowing
Lost years crooning
The vibrato rythyms we all
Tapped out on our prison walls
Our stretched voices in tune
Sing.
Sing these lost years,
Like velvet green leaves
Ripped from spring trees
The storms appear,
And we dissipate, but
We do not disappear.
We suffer loss, yes, and torn limbs,
But we live again, and
Our song is here.
I remember you
Walking in slowly like fingertips
Transversing a weeping piano
Notes as quiet drops slowing,
Collecting on the pane
That holds us at bay.
I heard you
Humming a doleful dirge
Between the bars
That stir our hearts
To refrain, to merriment, to holiday-
Your solemnity undergirding
The beauty of your sway.
viewingcamelot 