The whistling air evaporates,
whispering his sweet tune through my head.
His lips linger there just a moment,
before and with his sweet flowing music he fled.
Alone, yet his music still remains
and calls all others to his lovely
satin voice. I listen much closer
just so I hear my name on his lips sung free.
But, alas, my name stays forbidden;
his lips love to murmur other’s strange.
My mind closes around when he was
closer, and shown his guitar to me for a change.
Author notes
Inspired by a number of musicians in my life. Don't hesitate to ask for an explanation.
A contest entry
- Make this THE largest Contest EVER on AP [enter, enter, enter!] by Symphony.
18000 points, ended April 28, 1014 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Mysterious indeed, gave me a Phantom of the Opera type feel - I enjoyed reading it, it was so 'freel'y written - not by rhyme i mean, but just the story flowed ...
Great job thanks for entering. -
Another terrific poem, and just a pleasure to read and ponder. Keep up the wonderful works.
(p.s. I'm really going to have to host some contests shortly, so hopefully you will enter some of these wonderful poems)
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