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This is a section where I post poems sent to me by people who have found my site and wish to display their own works. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!
This poem is by Robert Crocker
She did not know
She sat there
Playing in the dark dusty corner
Her song poured like tears
Flowing from the strings of her violin
Every sorrowful note spoke to me
They were wounded doves fluttering down
Her soul was here, in the air
Her innermost being
The secrets we all hide
Free from the tomb of flesh
She did not know I "listened"
Her song would not have flown if she had
It would have been mechanical
Pretty notes and patterns, yes
But it would not have been the living thing I heard that night
Here even in it's infinite sadness
It was so full of life
This was pure emotion
This was tangible, like a gentle wisp around me
Hauntingly, I could feel it's touch
And when she laid the bow to rest
And the last note died
And the soft crash of the case closing woke me
I still could not bring myself to tell her
She does not know, that I was sorry
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