Of Music
It weaves its way along my brain,
And brands with fire a ballad’s tune,
And repeats more its strident rune;
Over speech and thought it holds its reign.
My body twists--it dances alone
To chords and chime;
A tuneful rhyme:
A melody sown.
And though the worms of ear do eat,
Rhythmically gnawing in my head,
It dispels my wanton dread;
I find the music pleasantly sweet.
October Poetry Contest
Regina McIntosh
9/30/2020
Copyright © Hannah Roberts | Year Posted 2020
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