As my muse enters the golden room,
The music softly quiets.
The art it dies a moment more.
The noise it does retire.
The notes held soft and whispered clear,
Shadowed by the listeners ear,
And love it fills the room with bliss.
A gentle kind of melododic kiss.
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Comments2
Lovely a poem of beauty and bliss. Well done
Ty for the compliment.
My pleasure
Aw, like how this flows.
Ya, thanks.
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