gnarled fingers
her cello lost long ago
she can’t hear
that mockingbird trilling
its heart out on the wind
gnarled fingers
her cello lost long ago
she can’t hear
that mockingbird trilling
its heart out on the wind
Carole, this one.brought me to the “homes” where my husband and I play our music for the residents…… Some listening, and others, no longer able to “hear”. Beautiful poem.
Beautiful, Carole! The gnarled fingers, the mockingbird “trilling/its heart out on the wind…” Love this!
Beautiful sadness! Stunning!
Carole, what a polished poem!
What they said! This familiar ache is what I love about reading poems from antiquity, like Sappho’s. Alive human, indelible.
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