Trembling as it sounds,
Every time the keys play down low,
My life tones & pounds
In its own decrescendo.
Things become shallow,
As blurry as fogged glass.
Can I pull myself out of this hollow
Or wait for time to pass?
Let your encompassing melody
Lift me off my hollow.
I wish to be free
So I can hear your sweet crescendo.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
Trembling as it sounds,
Every time the keys play down low,
My life tones & pounds
In its own decrescendo.
Things become shallow,
As blurry as fogged glass.
Can I pull myself out of this hollow
Or wait for time to pass?
Let your encompassing melody
Lift me off my hollow.
I wish to be free
So I can hear your sweet crescendo.
One of the first poems I posted online, inspired by the sound of rainfall.
