Oboe
There is no sweeter sound
than the music of thee
Because I play you,
and you play me.
From your black wooden body
to your silver keys
I play you
and you teach me.
You are my oboe,
I crow on your reed
Because I play my oboe
And my oboe plays me.
Copyright © Elena Welsh | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment