Old man fading,
A dusty,
Old quill, nearly silenced

His fingers, ink-stained sensations
Could really fiddle…
Flailing those poetic strings

Like whispers to the ages,
Now a soundless voice, on
An orchestra’s score-less page.


(Mountaintop Cottage, Tennessee
~July 12,2006)

Debora Short

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-orchestra-s-scoreless-page-2/