The day the music dies, I, along with it, die too.
The day all the sounds I hear stop, my world would inevitably stop spinning.
Candlelight may burn through this solemn night,
But the tears shed would last till the morning after.
I would not sing praises like I did before as I remember you
A sweet vision of my glorious death before my very eyes
Standing in all its glory, symphony dancing on moonlight
Robbed of sound, still like the deafening silence of the world
So when the time does come for all the music to die, I will be there to hold a funeral.
Dressed to the nines, tenderly singing songs that I would never hear again
In all black and not white, sharing sentiments of old and new
Faint music would erupt in my ears crazily growing louder, drowning the silence to become bearable once more.
.......
To whom ever is reading this,
Thank you ever so kindly.
much life yet to live,
amarynthe l.
YOU ARE READING
Nodus Tollens
Poesienodus tollens n. the realization that the plot of your life doesn't make sense to you anymore. (dictionary of obscure sorrows)
