Image for the poem Pluck My Cello ... Adult

Pluck My Cello ... Adult

When her head is buried in the Cello's chest
As the world spins on regardless
Tea stained maps, golden ocre's sun
She melds his form harmonious

No longer drowned in the screams of earth
Nor the torture sustained by man
Just a dainty tool
His Harpsichord
To be plucked by a knowing hand

And their orchestra plays a lovers encore
Between the silence of a delicate dusk
Of drums, percussions, grand symphony
As the wood pigeon cooed hush hush

His baton flicks to their chiffon tones
As the shadows extend their form
And leaves and trees and worlds roll by
Exquisite ....
A grand entree.... to dawn

Picture ......Penny Farthing
By moi
Written by PlasticinePolly
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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