Rhapsody

Broken rhythms

The broken rhythms haunting me along my weary way

I tumble down a fractious frown, a lean and relic stray

Piano sitting idle and the bones of life denied

The measures written rhythmic remain broken in their stride

Distractions pile upon the heap, a feast for bureaucrat

Poetic license brings a beat, the rhythm in a hat

The doom of life reminding me that ticking is for naught

Digging deep, within the heap, a rare inlay is sought

Surrounded by the rhythms as the smile begins to crest

The beat of life, once more, takes hold at harbinger's behest

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