At a distance, a harp begins to play
Mellifluous tunes attempting to capture the heart astray
Every single note pleasant to the ears
Every note reviving the comatose fears

Beautiful is the song as it is enchanting
Through agile fingers, a masterpiece in the making
But as the riveting sound cavorts the insipid walls
Dispelled memories return like raging falls

Strumming the strings equate a pronounced invitation
Melodic verses transmogrify into proposed elation
But the rhythm is alarmingly familiar
Whose end averts from the spectacular

The harps plays, the harp sings
Obnoxious bells produce clamorous rings
For the songs it sings are dulcet
But the notes may be disguised bayonettes

The comely harp will continue creating its art
A fragile bubble vulnerable to approaching darts
As the music invades every corner
May the north be an inexorable commander