Quietly afraid
of the wind howling breaths away,
bashful from the nightmares
that leave him bleak
and above all, lonely.
When will he not feel weary
at the coloring of the horizon
at the harvesting of the moon....
when will the circle
pave a course of far more worth
than he's been following.
Rain breezes inside of him-
there is an unforgettable peace within,
realizing the gentle cadence
will not brush him as briskly.
He plays for someone,
not certain who it is that flushes his fingers
and make him treasure
the notes that love him-
and her dreamed face
dissolving
whenever the world
takes him off his feet.....
And still, he remembers the symphony
she's always needed.
