Like a broken string I rose,
sauntering with the whirls,
beholding an elation,
elation of the mundane:
morning dew,
twilight hues,
scent of the rains,
dust of the pearls.

Hear my silence,
that instrument is bygone,
I am a broken string,
I am cold, I am warm.

I am my music,
I am dark, I am forlorn,
I am elated
in this dusky dawn.

I am the spring of seventeen summers,
I breathe the hills of violet,
ineffable is my love,
I am the clarinet!

Poetry month post 5!