Instrument of the Sorrowful

Sorrow

Was I the subject of a dream?
An illusion, draped in lace and satin,
hung over the enchanted shoulders
of my mind’s masterpiece?
Did my fantasy play my love
like a slow and secret waltz,
twirling around with a hazy smile
flying on my lips,
only to end the music,
one note gliding above me,
dissolving,
a gleam in its teasing eye,
into a colorless morning.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s