some pondering

 
page upon page  
written in metered time  
from a single tear drop
upon a grave shall find.  
so falls,  
the admiration of the southern draw...  
countless hours to my ear,  
heavenly.  
yes, my dear,  
indeed, i am enthralled.  
the angelic voice,  
her voice  
on femininity  
of the social graces,  
commonality  
bound traditions...  
have woven and laced  
in the hollows of a mossy tomb,  
ties are placed.  
the hallows of the killdeer's song as it scatters the fields,  
turning of the soil,
what it might reveal?  
the ideals of love... vapor from the land  
enriched by the Atlantic's sand.  
 
my heart's pounding as to a cello's tone  
and the piper's drone.