The moon changes its face every black nightSeasons shift, whispering some old wise words;I spot the changes in me without fightLet go people and things just like free birds.Music is the only thing I hold on Like a forlorn person who owns nothingA melody for each night and seasonLost memories rekindle as I sing. Being a slave to the music gives me hopeI feel alive despite losing a lot;Like letters stacked inside an envelopeMusic makes me feel secure about my thoughts.I can feel all the people I have lovedIn the rhythm of songs, I have savored.
© Purba Chakraborty 21.04.2018
Note: This is an English sonnet also known as Shakespearean sonnet. It is a poem consisting of 14 lines (3 quatrains and 1 couplet). Each line consists of 10 syllables. The rhyme pattern is abab cdcd efef gg.
Read Letters from the Soul #18 hereOriginal link
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