Obscured, past the penumbra,
Lies a secret waiting to be held.
Seeking shelter in a heart,
One that consists of pure symphonies.
An instrument so lonely,
Yearns to be intertwined in lovely
Orchestras of the legends.
Obscured, it lies past the penumbra.
Reaching out with every note,
That dares to strike the crisp, morning air,
A tune, so very tender,
Begins to play ardentiously.
Reaching out with a solo,
A melodious melancholic
Voice cries out to the vast world
of the forever vacant unknown.
A celestial musical
Bodice prays for an everlasting
They play immersed in immortality.
Obscured, past the penumbra a
Of one, still plays in immortality.
© Jessica Fuqua