At my piano, my fingers stumble,
on notes of songs I've ignored.
I hear, in the deep, a distant rumble,
measures of melody, words I wore.
For moments I sit remembering,
waiting, a lover on a destined lane.
For hours I sit practicing, listening,
around the corner the clearer refrain.
Because of faith, in moments or hours,
a song I wrote long ago reappears
like in spring with buds and flowers
or a stretching, emerging bear.
Giving credit to beyond what I know
memory may be part of my piano.
Welcome to Four Lines! I have a goal I would like to write at least four lines of poetry or a haiku every day for the rest of my life. I'm excited about this challenge! Also, along with my daily poem, I will be reading at least four lines of another author's poetry. I'll try to include that here also. So I'm thinking - how difficult can it be to read and then write one poem a day? We will see! - Claudia
All poems on this blog, unless noted, are written by Claudia Callaghan.
© 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 Claudia Callaghan
Used only with permission. Please feel free to join Four Lines and request permission.