My life was a played sad violin
and a note of longingness was
rhapsodizing alone and
shapeless in the wind.
How could such a melody
allure me into the unknown then
locked me up within a jar of heart whose
lid, so hard to remove?
Tinkling like a necklace of lovely bells
around my sad, nonchalant ears.
Now, I am encaged
kept alive and
enchanted by a melodic spell
repairing my broken strings of violin.
Soul's rhapsody of mine has a partner in the wind.
YOU ARE READING
The Stars who Shine on Ink
PoesíaThese are delicate thoughts prompted and written in ACROSTICS about the good poetess and poet I have come across with. I believe, like opinions, POVs are entitled to oneself.
