Tuesday, January 19, 2016

The Singer.

The deep tones that echo, sonar-like,
Through the green-lit waters, and the
Bass notes that underly the wind.
The slow drawl of words drawn out
By notes that linger and echo and
Wind round the melody.
The rippling guitar that flows so
Softly and strongly over the rocks
Of the echoing lyrics.
All these, and so much more,
Mean that memory does not die.
And the singer makes me cry.

© 2ndwitch, 19/01/16

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Blogger Unknown said...

So expressive.

5:22 am  

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