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Chord before the crescendo (Free verse) by Caducus

Echoes of death briskly marched her percussion anthem slowed and I stroked my broken instrument Like Chopin’s viola. Echoes of her life stopped I shook like Harp strings, Kissed her pursed silent flute Where breath crafts music no more. Echoes of a church choir sang My boxed instrument burned. A stranger in a dress spoke of you Then I described you without words, Through woodwind and echoes And you returned one last time In the chord before the crescendo.

LilMsLadyPoet 11-Jan-07/8:35 PM
Oh man! Excellent! Sheesh....applause, definitely. Take a bow...this is fantastic... way to go Caducus!
This is hitting my favorite folder.




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