Poem: Purple Harp
Purple Harp
A purple harp slowly begins its gentle melody
It gives me its strings and streams a line of dusk across my body
A careful bed caresses me
And caters to my weight
But this restful abode is a hammock
Where my mental balance thrives between the trees
Life is gradual
As the sun gradually disappears
The red violin, the orange trumpet hum
The navy bass softly bellows
My name
Its velvet line is playing my name
The sky is an infinite minute hand
Time is outdated
The deep purple atmosphere
Is a mother’s voice blanketing my worries and tending to my yelps
Silence opens another breath; a kind clarinet whispers,
Knocks on my eyelids, and bathes my soul
My heart is warm and places its hands on my floating chest
And the purple harp admits to me that my day is done
About: In this poem, I attempted to capture the emotions of peace and relief. I imagine myself relaxing in a hammock as the day ends. An orchestra…
