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O, my dusty Oboe!
February 26, 2013
your voice, so bittersweet
empowered me to speak
of peace and harmony
of grief and sorrow
of childish dreams
and a hope for tomorrow
I first met you,
with nine year old hands
that fumbled upon your silver plates
stretching to reach that
very bottom key
and then I grew, just to fit you
and played all my heart and soul
before I became busy and old
once an oboist, always an oboist
that’s what I like to say
even if you sleep beneath dust
I’ll come back to you one day
© Kimberly C., Houston, TX
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