Keys That Are Worn Around The Heart
The soft melody rings out in my ears,
In the room, your voice,
Scraping against the wood floor,
Secret chambers in the oak panelling,
They’re ready for some changes,
The transitioning of ages,
But it’s harder than you thought,
The whole process, of creativity, individuality,
Is gone, like the wind,
In the willows, that lenient breeze, the sigh,
Of a lover?
Or maybe just long lost love;
Playing out in the dead silent night on your rusty guitar with your wooden hands.
