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A gentle breeze is flowing free
Amongst the leaves a robin sings

Her tune rings clear and floats with grace
Hewn down my fears, the sound embraced

The sweetly sung and blended notes
Are neatly strung with mended hope

A robin’s song is better still
More stories told than letters will

They lift me up and see me down
A gift of love that’s free from doubt

Her nestled sound forever perched
Has settled now in clever search

Yet,

A robin’s song is never free
It’s bound by wind and
Lives in me...
On torrid winds of change therefrom
A lurid light finds range to thrum
Bold and bright and dry it seeks
The cold and quiet eyes that peek

For change is that; a whipping wind
A blinding light that has no end
Curst and harsh and strong it burns
At worst, from far, it longs and yearns

When torrid light has gone or come
And florid sights of change begun
Admitting new, a song so sung
Attending too, a throng so hung

For change is that; a music note
A binding, tight, subduing hope
The skipping sound of steps that pass
On winds of change that never last…  

Walk with me a while
Then there was this wood framed window
A glass pane cut for viewing out
It stares as should a good named fellow
A pair of lookers viewing doubt

Just as one sees through another
A good named fellow keeps it clear
Injustice done decrees a brother;
The wood frame window’s kin appears

When looking out means looking in
Good named fellows unhook the latch
Exploring how to dream within
A wood frame sometimes meets its match

Just then, there was a wood framed view
At last, a scene of how it should
Reflections he would not see through
No glass to keep this fellow good
Pablo plays with toys
Some of them are his friends
Some of them are cars and some of them are guns
Vroom! Goes the police car
Watch out! says the cowboy
Pablo plays pretend
He always gets the bad guy
Stop right there! the hero says
You’ll never get me alive! yells the bandit
Pablo knows that good guys always win
The policeman and hero find the bandit
Bang Bang!
I’m dying, says the bad guy
Good job, the policeman tells the hero, you’ve saved the day
When no one watches, Pablo looks for more play things
In the closet on the shelf, in the back, he finds a very heavy toy
There is no water in this gun
He takes it to his room
Pablo plays pretend
In the end, the good guy always wins
Bang!
His fight was not against the horn
The forlorn sights were fenced by scorn
Finito’s might was just as bold
As told by those whose pity sold
The bull saw red as did the crowd
For now, its head lowered-plowed
A proud escape brought louder cheers
Though sheered his cape, he had no fear
He cleared the charge of raging bull
Fooled, enlarged, by danger’s pull
Finito aims to miss by slight
Not flight, remiss a witnessed plight
Taurador’s pride is what’s for show;
To know his crowd and make his blows
So grows Finito’s need to ****
Fulfill their greed for fighter’s skill
And this is how a blow endured
Secured Finito’s place in lore
For it was not as all had seen
Obscene was not a man gored clean
Finito’s fatal wound begot
Not by horn but by prideful wrought
Brought by a kick, bled internal
Finito fought the beast’s infernal
The bull slain first, had died with grace
In place thereafter the slayer braced
Disgraced, he knew of what’s to come
Finito’s life was almost done
As his story survives his deeds
It sounds a bell which tolls for thee
The story of Finito was told by the wife of Pablo, named Pilar.
In fateful dreams of clementine
Designed, it seems too sweet for mine
Branched above just out of grasp
A love too rich for speech to clasp
Alas, I wish to wake from sleep
Too deep to shake, slumber sweeps
My clementine, a fruit too swell
Quell mine mute, that I won’t tell
Fell the tree, that it might be
Free from dreams of yields that flee
My dear, my fruit why do you leave?
Reprieve from love suits all but me
Decreed from above; sweetness seeps
Weep for dreams in clementine sleep
dreams, poetry, sleep, sweet, beauty, love, fruit
Amidst the smoke and light and laughter
Along the smiles and cheers thereafter

A sound is bled, wrung free from strings
It bounds and treads and wholly sings
Inside each song, a secret’s moved
Not right nor wrong or frequent proved
The message dances from bow to ear;
A coded trance of love and fear
From left to right the story rings
Of Death and light the Cello brings
The covert tale engulfs the room
It vibrates truth to those who loom
The Cello knows for why it’s played
Its secret lost, both gone and stayed

In the smoke and light and laughter
Music lies and cries thereafter
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