Melody

It is the violin that breaths the breath of melody
and draws the breath back in, akin to letters leaving lips of mine,
in time, to tickle ears of yours with words, now made by me,
blending them in gentle ways to let my feelings free
with sounds of sweeter simpler times
when love was painted with earnest rhymes.

Yet today we speak with cryptic slang
quickly typing what may once have rang
the bell within your heart which barely
beats within your heart so fairly
when reading text and twittered fragment
of all the partial heartless matter sent.

Depressed and hobbled we have resolved
as the voice we use has now devolved...
as thoughtful words are lost to time...
as no longer love is writ in rhyme.
so sad and sorry it is because
it is no longer what once it was.

No longer does one draw the bow
across the strings to let the other know
the songs that well within one's spirit,
crying forth, though none will ever hear it.
This breathless world is dry and failing
to set the song of well felt words sailing.

So let us, perhaps, begin renewing
the thing which in us is now brewing
and write our words complete with care
and say intently what we wouldn't dare
and be brave and bold and unabbreviated
so that our hearts are finally fully stated.