the wind was the flute
the rain was the piano
both sincere to their roots
yet light as a rainbow
your flute had a song in it
my piano had mine
for days they'd tune
in with the mountains,
with the brooks,
with the dunes
flowers would fall in
love with the bees
the sky with the earth
birds would chirp
a magic in their wings
celebrate flying moments
their deaths and their births
the sun would swing
in the sky, the moon
would without words
spread a lullaby
touch the ground
with its silent lazy light
busy words buzzed,
the charm was lost
in the contest
the content was gone
there was no fun
instruments, forlorn
transformed into guns
what could have been
a poem turned into
a mayhem, nature was
unheard, wars won the
noise; none, nothing else
had their voice
the flute and the piano
no matter what, will
survive their dawn
words may die
they may be born
