Monday, February 24, 2014

Midnight Concerto

The concert of a thousand midnights weeps
where onyx whispers strum; quivering lute
notes fall like snow, the heart cannot refute
as thought-keepsakes dishevel darling deeps
This cavern void of star-sequin on black
lures wanderer and bard to brave the cold
and search within Time’s ever-keening fold
for words to songs that we cannot have back
…youth dances and knows not how soon its stage
dips to the piazza of middle-age

Come love, a night like this requires two
and we will tango to its tender tune
for every journey born in joys of June
must someday bear the wiles of winter, through
its storm we, stronger, wiser drink the dark
and where the dead wood moans a barren brogue
someday a green and gladsome epilogue
returns to touch its bow to budded bark
Youth frets and scratches on time’s dragging pace
We revel in each curve of its embrace

What rouses there upon a fulcrum strung
where we straddle tomorrow and the past?
Ah, now Time’s phantom fingers travel fast
across the strings where soon an hour is flung
and we begin to ask, is this a dirge
vexing the air where solitude should be?
Or is it merely bits of poetry
hung onto notes in serenading splurge?
Youth rushes head-long toward morrow’s dream
We drain each droplet from midnight’s requiem

© Janet Martin


Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!