This is another poem that I wrote for a class. Hope you like it.
In notes beloved by all who hear
his bellows become his glory revived.
But in his eyes so deep inside
his pain and darkness come to bay,
and plead to come ashore.
His mask is made,
for his own heart, and all who hear.
The song, his own to sing,
but stolen through the tyrants of life.
Displayed upon his brow
deep worry and grief woven into lines.
His hair the color of pain.
Then his masked notes hush,
and glory be still.