Words have always been my art:
They dance for me and sing for me;
They laugh for me and cry for me;
They are my paint and brushes;
They are my clay.
09 October 2012
OctPoWriMo 9 - Music
First, the flute finds its voice Clearly, sweetly, soaring sound Drums begin, a beat so bold Teasing and tempting your twitching toes Trumpets up and take the lead Pure and true the piano plays While the guitar gently weeps And all at once it’s all a wall Of sound and song and harmony