Moot

Whispers of a poet's heart

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Pexels.com

Broken notes play in my soul

I walk past the grey-filled window

Wind is blowing snowflakes hard

And I can feel the added chills

Almost- as if they were waiting

The winter sun isn’t shing, anymore

I stumble down a silent hall

Then I halfheartedly sit on the bench

I tease ivory keys that tease my heart

Honestly, I never did learn to play

Sometimes life gets in the way

But that ain’t my excuse, anymore

I feel the notes touch, I feel the words

I’m not sure what that’s worth

I could write a million sad songs

But really what’s the use now

After love ran out- a lifetime ago

And loves warmth turn cold, anymore

They claim, life is like is like a stage

We’re all just substitute characters

We make up our own lines and lies

And all of us must…

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