There, as if drawn by the orchestral notes of despair
Where strings are the echoes of confidence never reclaimed
Violins strung with the promise of pain in the air
And played with a bow that could never be tamed
For eternity built it with only a strand of your hair

I, as the listener, lingered where longing provoked
The somber refrain of the melody best never heard
Cellos were playing the darkest and deepest of notes
A cadence of crying that carefully lured
Me to temples, where tired and tearful, I tragically spoke

There, in the chamber, were tapestries painted of you
And organs were weeping the hymns of your final farewell
Timpanis were pulsing – the beat of my heart as you flew
And left on my lips were the words in a swell
A crescendo intended, now suddenly hollow and few

I, as the watcher, was singing the last of my songs
Where notes are the humming of rain in the days that I wait
Trumpets of tragedy, mournfully playing along
And all that I have are the words I create
In a symphony where you were music – and words don’t belong


3 thoughts on “Symphony

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