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Friday, 25 October 2019

Broken Keys



The broken keys, her soul without a tune
Forever, heard to haunt her heart and mind 
Doth dance upon the air; foul sense of doom
Iced feather drips it’s dread; descends her spine
Each note, as key, a yearning pain doth ache
Explodes, in mind, like opium to vein
As she’s beguiled into her pain doth sway 
The tear-soaked notes across the paper stain
For once, as she, this instrument was grand
Sonata slew; she’d melt the stars in sky
Demure guests entertained; bewitched her hands       
Evoked in them an ecstasy so high
Piano now, as she, sits gathers dust
No more it sings to spin the moon alight 

Doth bodies break so in our souls, we’ll trust?  
So is it then, that death is living’s plight?  

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry