(1) Spare Sound by Sandra Fowler

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(1) Spare Sound

Rain plays piano notes against the skin.
Light lets only a little solace in.
Is it enough that eloquence has been?

Dissonance is a moment's rusty tears.
The air is leaf thick with dusk's atmosphere.
Spare sound by defination is severe.

Like gray birds, shadows have life flighted day,
Leaving nothing but emptiness to play
That song by which we both are blown away.

Previously published, 'The World Poets Quarterly', China

Sandra Fowler

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Mary Naylor (11/18/2007 3:09:00 AM)
I've often thought that your poems are best read by the emotions and the visions that rise up
and are experienced by the mind's eye. The third stanza especially lingers in the mind.

Emma Johnson (9/25/2007 1:01:00 PM)
It blows me away, Sandra. Susie xx

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