My Harmonica Cries
My harmonica cries,
in tones of silver sighs and golden tears;
wailing bittersweet joy.
Sound of sadness; sound of laughter;
it’s in the wailing that color blooms.
Mouth-harp memories fill many family albums.
Circle of breath, circle of life;
winding in and out; among the reeds.
As we all wind down life’s road.
Diatonic monotones blending with
chromatic colors of sharps and flats;
my harmonica sings the music of diversity;
notes in keys of primary colors and unending shades.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2019
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