POETRY
Bagpipes
Poetry Sunday
The bagpipes play their sad, sad song
of passion felt, then lost, or gone.
They ache, they moan, they cry, they beg.
They call my soul, they hurt my head.
They tell me of a love thought true.
They force my heart still beat for you.
And as they play, my eyes now closed,
I see your face, its calm repose.
The pipes that played to comfort me,
Now burn and twist inside of me.
They tear my soul and steal my breath.
Their song of love, their ache of death.
Yet still, I long to stand with you
on windswept moors, with morning dew.
To hold your hand, our love assured.
My passion felt while feeling yours
Instead, the pipes they play with me.
Remind me of what could have been.
Reverberating through my veins,
the sound that brings me naught but pain.
© Sarah J. Baker 2020. All Rights Reserved.
