Sitting by the moon she shares a faint cry with the moonlight giving it's weary eye. The music that once touched her now sounds like a lie as his fingers hit each string and then it died. Why the moonlight? It's the only time he is in her sight. She can honestly feel him stroke her hair as if he was still here. There's no chance she will ever let go for their love was the best we know. She waits once more for his face to appear and then he plays forever sincere. It never hit the paper, he only played by her ear. This was the greatest he composed the greatest of all their years. She is holding on to a ghost but what can she do? Her thoughts of him are a distant few. Now she prepares the violin and plays that song, how sweet it is for their unborn son.
By Lilly Rabbit
No comments:
Post a Comment