The bow glided across my cello. The notes becoming powerful and then subtle with each stroke. My brow is furrowed. The only reason why I play anymore, Is that, It’s the only way I can drown out her cries. Some nights louder than others, And some begin with only whispers of cries. I leave her at night, Too scared to help. Yet I don’t think I could, For she is sinking in her own sorrow. Tonight, She begins with pathetic whimpers, Echoing through the house, Challenging my notes. But I play louder, Until I can play no longer. And the purging of emotions Fades into silence that burns my ears.
PS: the magic page that will always jump you to the latest poem is "http://www.saintannsny.org/depart/computer/poems.html"