Tuesday, August 18, 2009


A philharmonic noise
resides inside my head
I cannot get to sleep
because its strings are in my bed

A sedative of rhythm
not my lullaby
instead a rude awakening
of a grace I can't deny

I will not win this battle
I'm thinking I'll give in
I venture to the attic
to save my violin

I find its leather coffin
dusty from the years
inside a cancelled concert
bringing me to tears

I free it from its stifle
craving wood's embrace
as epiphanies of music
whisper to my face

A bowed rejuvenation
of concerto we once played
effortless reminding of
the notes that never fade

I play a reminiscent
of the beauty in my head
as both of us are weeping
for the passion we have bled

In final resignation
of the dreams I put away
I place my sleepless nights
upon the mantle for display

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