The Lesser Serenade – The Human Anvil

I was once a baritone,
Timbre like the weight of stone,
And yet in the aching arms of a piano
I could weep and keep the sweetest soprano,
But that was long ago, you see,
When the curtains rose just for me,
And not for choruses, such as now I abide,
Like an tuneless trumpet, by the side.

I have no voice left, so to speak,
Just a twig of pitch, dry and weak,
Which I wring each day, north and south
For a morsel to fill my mortal mouth,
So in glory of the dream slain past
Could I sail again, against this motion vast,
Of arpeggios the world claim true,
That once left my falsetto in ruin and rue.

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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