| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Emotional >> ID #1275608 |
| |||||||||||||
|
Midnight Walk
Haunting tenor sax sounds, floating, hanging in the dark air. A refrain from a soul unbound, with all emotions stripped bare. Seeking solace to be found in the warmth of music's care. Fading slowly into silence again, without leaving a single trace. It's unseen balm soothing pain, a gift bestowed in total grace. Ephemeral notes gently easing strain, without a sight of the player's face. Heels echoing up empty streets, almost like a metronome. The sax picks up the beat, stirring memories of home. Filling lead into my feet, whilst the road beckons me to roam. The music keeps a fire burning, in the stark reality of being alone. While life's wheel is slowly turning, grinding my boulder down to a stone. On this long curve of learning, a craft which I need to attone.
© Copyright 2007 Stan Stanley (UN: stanaxe at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Stan Stanley has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |