The Melody
A different song
enters the symphony hall,
It's not an aria or a choral work,
it's much bigger,
it fills the auditorium.
Outside, on the street,
a busker plays his pennywhistle.
The orchestra and its singers
cease to study scores and song sheets...
pause to listen,
Entranced,
they let the music play on,
through the one throat
of the All.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
