Harmonies, impressive feat
Rhythm pulses, steady beat
Bright and gleeful melody
But I admit it’s lost on me

A lovely voice, three-octave range
The music artfully arranged
However pretty it may be
I must admit it’s lost on me

The instrument, sonatas grand
Plastic, dead, beneath my hand
But it’s my private tragedy
It’s I who’ve lost ability
It’s I who’ve changed; ’tis lost for me
 

Discarded in the paper spells
Jammed folded into plastic shells
Without my ear, perhaps I see
The lyrics: music meant for me.

Part of Poem-a-Day 2013. Title donated by Steven J.

This entry was posted on September 30, 2013 and is filed under Creativity. Tags: Poetry, Music, Poem-a-day 2013