When the bows glided through the strings mellow,
no single note I heard was shallowThen came that music so alluring
for my ears to refrain from hearing
For sure it was not from any of those strings,
but it had crotchets and minims with wings
Amid the sensual La Cumparista
and the haunting Canzonetta,
it went on like a beautiful counter-melody
Alas! but it soon faded away leaving me heady
I tried hard, again and again, to listen,
still I lost that spring from heaven
I stood alone like a cello with strings broken,
with all the wings of desire stricken,
before the dark corridors of hope that beckon.
1 comment:
Beautiful and apt imagery. I like the image of dark corridors of hope beckoning you (me too?). Hope (I forget who said it) can be the single most painful and dangerous thing that lures us in promisingly though it keeps it's promises only half the time. I suppose it falls on the one choosing to heed the call whether the potential rewards are worth the wait and disappointments. Then again, there are those who believe that hope and the gift of holding on to it alone is the prize in a dark and cruel world..
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