scattered sonatas
familiar chords
music fades away
Melodies of life, songs of seasons, lie weeping at my feet;
those collections over years,
changed and all I knew in blurred rhyme falling between wistful lyrics and faded verse scattered to the winds.
descending keys
treading notes
unsung hymns
I picked up broken notes, one by one,
the melancholy arias of cold uncertain seasons and those concertos of autumn leaves,
sweet sonatas of heated summers and finally,
one broken hearted lullaby,
once sung in the key of spring.
in composers' ink
treble sentences written
bleeding onto time
I remember the sorrow,
still feel the grief,
but where are the words in numbing lost moments?
I no longer know them!
How could I forget?
And yet, when did I last sing the lullaby basking in its comfort?
I feel time slipping to lie dormant in
mortally lost notes between cracks;
those beloved hymns of my seasons,
sadly gone up in smoke.
every tune ends
scattered stanzas
in temporal seasons
"sung in the key of spring"
"sung in the key of spring" "concertos of autumn leaves" and "in composers' ink/treble sentences written/bleeding onto time" are among the most phenomenal lines of verse I have ever read. Bravo! Miss you. - Stella