Notes About The Poem
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Color of Music
Some nights,
the color of music
is barely a shimmer~
a pale wash of sound
brushing the air
like moonlight learning
how to breathe.
It moves the way
a memory moves,
slow at the edges,
soft in the center,
a hue you feel
before you see.
Sometimes it glows
like a beacon under water,
a muted gold
rising through the dark
to remind you
that even silence
has a pulse.
And sometimes
it is only a shadow
of a color~
the faintest blue
that gathers
when a voice trembles
with something
it cannot name.
Music is never just heard.
It is carried,
like light in the hands,
like a secret
that keeps changing shades
each time the heart
listens.
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