An Illusion of Song
I am not a melody of the heart nor sweet
I am the rain that cascades down
a black umbrella at a funeral procession
A reminder that what is and what was
can no longer be
I am the whipping of wind
against an abandoned screen door
No cheerful voices resound
through these desolate walls
nor footsteps upon barren floors
I am the howling of a deranged mind
bound to self and room
My screams heard but misunderstood
You will not find any beautiful tones here
no timbre so fine
only the crashing of waves against a beaten shore
© 2011 Lori Carlson. All Rights Reserved.
A Whispered Wind 