private the piper plays 
turning the reflections 
within the musicians daze 

compositional expectations 
of music to ghost the days 



the nightingale droops on her precarious perch 
as gilted wings shudder with each laboured sigh 
melancholic notes flutter... shimmers of silver silence 
woven with the forlorn tones of a shephards' flute 


haunting the nights' air 
with such sanguine sorrow 
wilting chromatic moonbeams 
that pass within their hollow 
promising the wonderthoughts 
for a single mind to borrow 


beyond the other nowhere 
the dancers dine on death 
minds melding the melancholy 
'till the moon runs out of breath 
towards another somewhere 
to suffer the fate of Macbeth 


the wolf stands firm on his precarious perch 
as silvered fur ruffles with each lustful howl 
a celestial body quivers... in sinful scintillation 
as desperate notes arise from the reapers' lute 



compositional vibrations 
of music to show the ways 

silent the piper plays 
twisting the deflections 
between the daylight haze