Chain Wire Fence
A tall, chain wire fence
surrounds the perimeter
of the power station, casting
its evening shadow over a wide
bank of grass leading down
to the river. Sometimes I sit there
just to listen to the sound
of the wind make music through
the wires.
It is a soft, melancholy music
that carries a certain sorrow.
Uncoupled from a name,
it seems a composite
of the sadness accrued
in the wordless wells of the soul
that finds voice here.
It has a strange attraction,
an addictive beauty
which keeps me coming back
though each note strums
a nerve giving a little hurt.
At times I can almost hear
human voices weaved
into the music, a tone
echoing out of places
made restless with longing.
It is the music that lovers make
and gently plays at the center
of all good art, sad prisoners
of time, composed by the heart
to mourn when what is loved
and what is beautiful in this life
passes from us,
and let go.
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