Cymbals 2020

The music whistled as a traveler,
Wandering the world to live his dream.
It hushed as a kind mother
Calming her child at twilight.
It spun as a dancer,
Sweeping and twirling into lives and hearts.
The notes poured out of the instrument,
Coming to rest at your feet.
Jumping and hopping,
Pawing at your legs,
Igniting smiles and tears, laughs and sobs.
The beat blew around the chamber,
Bouncing off the ceiling and walls,
Flowing out of the doors and windows,
Delighting the ears who heard it.
The tune pounced onto your lap,
Snarling and snapping,
Grabbing you by the collar and pulling you down.
The melody dripped down,
Pooling upon the ground.
The song wrote itself upon the wind.
The melody tasted sweet,
Softening the cruelest hearts.
The tune was like a river,
Flowing in and out of souls,
Capturing minds within its current.
The beat was a pacing lion,
Waiting to escape,
To break free,
To have the full ability to roam.
The notes danced and twirled,
Weaving in and out of your heart and soul,
Winding up and winding down,
A cascading wave of emotion,
Spinning and spiraling into bliss.
The
Song
Wrote
Itself
Upon
The
Wind
By Chloe Schiff
The music whistled as a traveler,
Wandering the world to live his dream,
It hushed as a kind mother
Calming her child at twilight.
It spun as a dancer,
Sweeping and twirling into lives and hearts.
5