7/8/99 I pop in my CD Sit down with a pen, Posed above paper Waiting for the low flute to begin. A sound so mornful Yet bitter-sweet, Seeps from the speakers To hear it is a treat. Then, from the bluish fog That the low flute has created, I hear a bow bouncing upon strings "Now for a reel," the violin has stated. Colors burst As the violin plays, Gorgeous fireworks of music That I shall remember through all my days. The reel dips and curls about itself As if it were a ribbon in the wind, Such fast patterns of music Of which only a violin could send. I can practically see the notes dancing in the air As the song changes key, An accordian adds to the sound And I feel my soul seeping away from me. I'm soaring above Ireland Gazing at the emerald fields, Dipping and turning to the beat Which envelopes me like a shield. A flute plays a line of crazy sharps and flats Somehow blending together, The violin takes on stronger than before Turning out increadible measures. Suddenly all is still The air no longer vibrating with drums, From the stillness and silence The low flute once again comes. Last time it played an awakening This time an end, The sound fades out And all it takes is a push of a button for it to play again. ~Inspired by Riverdance~
Yeah, I know, that was sappy, go read something gruesome now...
Email: levon_16@yahoo.com
