You never talked like this.
Not when we were young
and not when we grew up.
If I were to make a bracelet out of you
it would mean I’d have to let you go
along a thin gold chain, escaping on the other side.
No—I’d rather make a flute
so as I blow, the music plays
and comes swiftly back to me.
I could never contain your wildness,
but perhaps I could hear a song before you left.
I’d strike a note and you would go.
But at least you would leave echoes
like chilling crystal mirrors visiting me
on friendless nights that I can dare
to revisit memories of our lost melody.
It makes me wonder now as I play the instrument again—
hear its weeping, cheerless birdsong as it conquers time and space
and lulls me down to dreaming of the two of us once more—
it makes me wonder now if, on lonely nights like this,
if I dare to listen closely,
will I hear your crying too?
Author notes
Dedicated to a friend of mine.
Friendship, withering, struggling on its last leaf.
A contest entry
- Inner Peace by Kari.
1500 points, ended May 27, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What do you think?
Comments
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I really like this piece but I am not exactly sure how it matches with the prompt of the contest.
It was a nice read tho
Kari
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Thank you for reading
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