Alone
Cold is the night
Lonely silence until she hums music
Sweet songs in her head
Humming hymns and strumming chords of her favorite songs
Fingers playing music
Pressing hot reflections of a time gone by
A door slams somewhere far away
Footsteps fade away
No sound but her humming
She
Alone again
Shivers in the cold behind closed doors
Someone enters and lights a fire
A lover spreading warmth
Blankets of heat make life cozy
Love makes all music more attractive
All the same
Cold is the night
For musicians playing alone
Penned July 22, 2007
Excellent, Steve– great closing lines.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Mark. I tried to convey loneliness as best I could in this old poem. I remember long and cold winter nights coming to mind immediately. Later, I saw a street musician playing for whatever little money pedestrians would give him, and the poem’s story took off.
It’s nice to see my ancient contributions appreciated. Thanks again.
LikeLiked by 1 person