String the night, there is much music left
Unheard, unsung
Of all the incomplete thoughts and things
Real people, poetic lives
Dark rooms
Locked cupboards
Sleepful nights
Sleepless dreams
Sunshine smiles
Warm hands
Broken looking glasses
Mouldy shadows
That half folded page
Desperation well concealed
Soliloquies
You have to still sing of these
To me
As we sit stringing the night
There is much music left
Unheard , unsung
3 comments:
A virtuoso performance ;)
Your music really struck a chord with me. Perhaps it caught me right in a mood congruent to this piece's feelings. Phenomenal.
stringing the night:D
it sounds so nice, somehow!
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