A Harpist Plays the Seasons - a Rhyming Wave Poem
She plucks her harp with passion seen,
A passion, passion, passion seen.
Her face, as summers had once been.
Her face warm thaws a freeze.
Now climates changing seasons tease,
The seasons, seasons, seasons tease.
Yet she with passion plays with ease.
Yet she plays, sharing joy!
Her lilting music, calming ploy,
A calming, calming, calming ploy.
Every note doth the cold destroy!
Every season well played.
Her spring, new life, a future swayed,
A future, future, future swayed!
The way it was then gone, delayed.
The way now, danger waits!
Her summer score, song, dancing fetes,
O dancing, dancing, dancing, fetes!
Kids holidays, all that relates.
Kids holidays, such fun!
Her autumn music does not shun,
It does not, does not, does not shun!
Naked trees or hibernation.
Naked, quiet, nowt stirs.
Winter, her music weeping tears.
She's weeping, weeping, weeping tears.
Her harp playing belies her fears.
Her hand succumbs, now froze!
She plucks her harp with passion, seen!
Her hands succumb, now froze!
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4/14/18
New Poems Only - Poetry Contest, sponsored by Emile Pinet
Copyright © Mick Talbot | Year Posted 2018
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