"A letter from a forgotten Instrument "
You are my composer
I am your musical note
We flow together as one
Together we play such sweet music
When the sun goes down
You tug on my heart strings
That's when the music you write is sorrowful
And again together we compose a symphony
The most beautiful notes played on my heart
From your finger tips
Fluttering and swiftly
When we part
I feel myself aching to feel your finger tips
Gently strumming my strings
I sit and wait as long as it takes for you to come back
Over time my strings rust and break
As I lie in wait faithfully
Collecting dust
In a corner
Once a beautiful and expensive Instrument
Now dulled
Worth nothing
And forgotten
Still faithfully waiting for you to come back to me
To polish me up
To fix my broken strings
To make me sing together like we used to
RB2.4
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Author:
Birdgirl (
Offline) - Published: January 5th, 2024 12:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
My comments on the poem "A letter from a forgotten instrument” by Birdgirl
Usually, it is the musician who is the composer. Here, the poem says that the instrument is the composer and the poet is the notes that come out of the instrument.
“You tug on my heart strings…” After the strings of the instrument, it is about the heart’s strings. Typical poetic expressions. The music coming from the heart is “sorrowful” :
“Our sweetest songs are those of the saddest thought.”
--Percy B. Shelley (1792-1822)
« The most beautiful notes played on my heart” : the instrument composes music on your heart.
Soman Ragavan. 27 January, 2024.
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