Ode to Joy

I stand before the frozen philharmonic
orchestra. They sit in wait for me,
yet I cannot recall how my symphonic
masterpiece should feel. But when I see
the horns, which flash like burnished sunlight trapped
in water, my baton begins to dance
I taste the cellos, rich as cherries wrapped
in chocolate, feel the flute and harp's romance,
and touch the violins, as sharp as wire
yet lush and smooth as velvet's soft caress.
I cannot feel the voices in the choir,
just know they sing a joy I can't express.
               The concert ends. I slowly turn around
               and weep to see applause devoid of sound.

The End

106 comments about this poem Feed