Violin
As violins bequeath their dulcet tones
and peaceful shivers marry with the air,
the daydreams drift and pause where life has flown
across the strings of wishes like a prayer.
The bow drawn gently is a pebble's wake
that travels through the air like waves to shore,
and builds in shallows where they rise and break
from pianissimo to forte's roar.
No matter what crescendo note is drawn,
it is a haunting echo in the mist
and vibrant tones that whisper in the dawn
the secrets that are lost within its midst.
So here, or huddled in a theater crowd,
no finer gift of peace am I endowed...
Copyright © Craig Cornish | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment