Lifting the Veil
You see, Mr Bilton, Sir
This trumpet that you gave me
Fails my musical sense to stir
A guitar would surely save me
A guitar is all I yearn
Should I whinge and whine and wail
Or will His Dominance make mine turn
A whiter shade of pale
My puny chest draws deep a breath
My lips pucker to tweet
The notes inside were lost to death
Instead of sounding sweet
Sorry Sir, embarrassed I
For all that I exhale
Leaves the effort that I ply
A whiter shade of pale
Relenting to the obvious
He throws at me a strummy
It ain’t no Stradivarius
But sits well on me tummy
I plucks vibrations on the strings
My muse it lifts the veil
For on his rosy cheek there clings
A whiter shade of pale.
For Arcy’s, ‘Sing to Me’ Contest
Inspired by; Whiter Shade of Pale
Categories:
bilton, music,
Form: Quatern