The Dark
In a world where the lamps forgot to glow
and the sky wore a coat of night,
None were brave enough to make a sound
But then,
Not loud, barely perceptible,
just a thread of sound,
weaved into the silence.
The streets were empty of laughter,
The windows held no more warm light
The wind whispered and rustled through the dark.
Still the violin sang.
It sang of mornings,
The darkness had never seen,
Of gold and green spilling over vast hills
Of birds soaring in an endless blue sky
Its song climbed broken stairways,
Slipped beneath locked doors,
and began to soften the hardest hearts
And somewhere in that dark world
Someone paused to listen
For a moment
The night grew thinner
The suffocating gloom began to thaw
As if the music had made them remember
The days before The Dark.
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