And the music plays

Light fades early,
On this July afternoon,
This world takes on the look of stormy August days,
The sky turns through a blackened green,
To deepest purple,
With no thunder or rolling clouds to give it away,
And then the music plays,
My past flashes from every darkened corner,
In vivid gold’s,
Tinged in sepia and grey,
Flashing from one past to another,
Seamless and flowing notwithstanding this forthcoming tempest, The sound track of my life as faultless as this picture show, As three little birds sing by my window,
And all is in its rightful place,
But yet not,
And still the music plays,
Floating across the heavens from times long past,
The smell of chalk dust to the taste of Stella,
The scent of teenage perfume,
To the reek of maturity,
And a tenor reverberates in relentless determination,
In time with the happy scream of a new born, Snuffling and squinting,
And history plays out,
Over my years of joy and loss,
Through peeks and troughs of a stormy life,
But now in peace,
Lights dim to romance,
My chest in hitch and struggle forgot,
As my life gives in its struggle,
My last breath passes these blue lips,
A silent hiss of relief,
My existence in its last flicker still plays on,
Lips curl to contentment,
As this spirit struggles to its birth,
From the cocoon of being,
A lifetime of confinement,
And like the butterfly, I spread my eternal wings,
And fly from a world of pain and loss, A life lived from a shot glass,
In musical tones,
And then,
The fat lady sings,
The flat line hums a continual note, The curtain falls,
No encore this time,
Lights go out,
As the auditorium falls silent, And I’m gone.

Mixes wood and ruby crystal resin bowl, from Bespoke Woods. Visit Bespoke Woods page on Facebook to see more or get a quote.
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