music man.

 

minute over hour,
as the hand comes to rest,
atop the mighty face.

 

its time to sit down,
and write your one last symphony.

theres no promises that it will be greater than the rest.
but you’ve been assured a beautiful melody.
and a grand piano,
on which to bring to this world:
a whisper.
a song.
a life.
a prayer.

 

fill her heart with sorrow.
form her soul from pain.
shape her body with anger.
sculpt her every detail with rough hands,
the same ones that glide over each key.
pounding,
dancing,
tapping,
every lost dream.

 

piece her together,
with those weary eyes.
tie her together,
with words from your lips.
bring her to life,
with your final dying note.

 

give her a name
by which others will call her;

Puja graces the top of papers,
and the ending of letters.

 

music man, music man
you say im your daughter.

 

old man, old man
i yearn for my father.

Reviews

[Bhavya Kaushik]

Your style of writing is quite unique.
This is overall a nice write which has been beautifully penned...But according to me you should work upon it's flow!
Overall, a great write! :)