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S•Y•M•P•H•O•N•Y🎻

( a Sonnet )        
          
The melody from snow that falls,  
Its swirling melee are the reeds,  
With chorus from a crow that calls  
Its sound a single brass horn bleeds.
 
The wind that bends the upper pine  
Creates a ghostly lyric’s rush,  
For months to pass & Spring to find,  
Between the gray sky’s drift & hush.  
 
With Winter’s life & death well met,  
Then chime of crystalline snowflake,  
The gentle soul of string quartet 
That dances ‘cross a frozen lake,  
 
‘Till crash of cymbals swell, ascend  
To storm of kettle’s booming end.  




Copyright©️Jade Pandora 2018.  All Rights Reserved.
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Published | Edited 21st Mar 2018
Author's Note
kettle = kettle drum
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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