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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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 13th, 2026 10:14
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
Lovely a poem of beauty and bliss. Well done
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