Sonata Poem by Steven Federle

Sonata



The grave is empty.
Darkness, half lit by the blurred moon,
Chilled by the sea, the fog waiting,
The enthralled stars, nearly lost,
Searching for another earth,
The dark soil waiting for the seed.

Chaos-night.
The memory of a fireplace,
Warmth with music
Undulating arias
Like small birds falling into darkness.

Cold rain
Driving against my window.
Muffled music and dreams of water,
And another grave.

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Steven Federle

Steven Federle

Cincinnati Ohio
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