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Open Poetry #48
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Little Trumpet Boy
| Open Poetry #48 |
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Little Trumpet Boy |
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Freely_expressing Member
since 2008-10-16
Posts 69NSW, Australia |
Ever over hills I roam A broken clockwork toy Playing tunes I shouldn’t know I am the trumpet boy Tiny bellows pump away Inside my wooden chest I’m told I have a part to play But I think I know best My maker often finds me And I falter for a beat He hands me one more copy Of his symphony complete Somehow I can read it -Confusing in itself- Each time I have to admit That my copy’s on the shelf I’ll play one of my parts for him The tune is quite complex This time I play two on a whim And start to feel perplexed My playing, less than flawless Within me, resonates All else I know seems tuneless But I falter, hesitate He looks at me so sadly His face not quite resigned Perhaps he really knows me Knows I can’t play all the lines I can’t bear the look he’s giving It’s not my fault I am broken Perhaps if I was living Then I’d take the blame unspoken I turn away to march again Silent on the rest In the quiet, I hear his pain My bellows feel compressed My quick steps begin to slow As I become unwound I feel his hands and then I know Forgiveness can be found He winds me up and points once more To the symphony he wrote He hopes I’ll play what I’m made for But will not force the notes So ever over hills I roam This broken clockwork toy Still playing tunes I shouldn’t know I am the trumpet boy |
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| © Copyright 2013 Ben Crow - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Lighthousebob Member Elite
since 2000-06-14
Posts 4725California |
A creative fable put to rhyme that I think everyone can relate. We have all failed at one point or another and have been dusted off and put back on track. Enjoyed!  |
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