My Mind
My mind is like a well read novel--
and the pages there are torn,
rustling, crunching, crackling noises
from whence my thoughts were born.
A thousand words, a thousand more--
fill my brain with beautiful silence,
round and round like a merry go round,
my betraying voice of violence.
My mind is like an antique bass;
each vibrant hum,echoes sweetly--
clefs and trebles, my music sheets
are compiled ever so neatly.
I find in song, the greatest friend--
each note, a sincere appreciation,
fa, so, la, ti, do-- a graceful chant,
within a tomb, my souls vibration.
My mind is like a pregnant garden--
with fruits from shore to shore,
an apple tree, no longer forbidden
rivers of gold, in my hearts decor.
Valleys that extend to your dreams,
are wondrous places, I do implore--
Wherein I see your face, I think
I must someday venture to explore.
My mind is like a wilting rose,
for when it falls, no one knows.
Copyright © Marcello Colasurdo | Year Posted 2010
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