symphony

20 3 1
                                    

The drum paddles my heartbeat

the flutes flutter by the wind,

the guitar strings the way to the door,

and no more,does the dance start to flow.


Ironically nostalgic,

brilliantly manifested,

smiles covered the frown,

the show was yet to come.

  

Melodies weren't just above the clouds

the anesthesia shackled me rock bottom to the seat.

There was a miraculous symphony witness,

and it chipped a part of our hearts.

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