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Musical Beauty
January 24, 2015
Notes, soft and smooth, on nerves, dancing, grating
Bored and tired, I stare out my window
Head weighing my hand down, I am waiting
I wait with yearning for the crescendo
As my eyes wander over walls and a street
Gray, forgotten, once appears a flower
Velvet petals and a stem so petite
A beauty my soul yearns to devour
I reach out and clench it, ripping the roots
My teeth rip and tear, beauty down the throat
Consuming it all, the forbidden fruit
Violently ending with a lone eighth note
With light filtering through panes, I decide
Beauty’s useless if everyone has died.
© Madalyn W., Holliston, MA
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Prompt: Write a poem about a flower in a flower box outside a window.