Delicate Strands of Sound
Flanked by violets and similes
in a drafty den she pens
away fleet hours, pensive, concocting
exotic brews of rarest essence
and scents, honey-tipped phrases
in secret rhythmical chants
known only to denizens of her
innermost sanctum, where she,
perches, chin in hand, arranging
delicate strands of sound, eliciting
murmurs from those gathered, who lionize her
though she remains as the dust underfoot
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2019
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