A Tune That Died Young

There is too much noise outside
Drilling into my head
And I can’t just write on love and life
They jar out notes that were in me
Strangling them in one stampede
Of music of undead.
I shut the windows,
Kill the lights
Still, there is this soaring sound
Of all that’s lively, all that blooms
Hounding me for all that’s left
No place to hide
No place to run
And while the noises bang my doors
A voice in me calls out for more
And strangely strangers lift their heads
To look in corner rooms.
Searching for their piece of cloth
They find it nestling in those crypts
Wrapped in which my music slept
Long forgotten.
Long dead.