*What more is being lost,
than not knowing where to go
for the fingers that hover over
the lettered keys have nothing to say*
And the half empty ink-pot
with a dried stuck cap,
is dancing to the cries of
the un-tuned borrowed guitar
mocking the silence of a silent heart
as the shadow of a flame mocks the dark
So long have I whistled this tune,
or is it just my forte?
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
*What more is being lost,
than not knowing where to go
for the fingers that hover over
the lettered keys have nothing to say*
And the half empty ink-pot
with a dried stuck cap,
is dancing to the cries of
the un-tuned borrowed guitar
mocking the silence of a silent heart
as the shadow of a flame mocks the dark
So long have I whistled this tune,
or is it just my forte?
the feeling of not knowing left to right
