R. K. Hart
I hear her singing hymn or secular,
Phantom to Mighty Fortress in particular.
All stops to take her in,
I’m captured by own warming grin.
Vases of flowers lean toward her song,
Brooks envy her melody day and night long.
Birds carol outside her door,
Lost in rapture their hearts soar.
Clouds cease their wandering across the blue,
To take in the wonder that is you.
Each note you sing resembles the artist touch,
As he brings to life a Mona Lisa or such.
Crickets hard to find, stop their noisy throng,
Intent to take in an Angel’s song.
Fortunate is the husband whose heart does swell,
For when he hears her notes they lift him from his hell.
R.K. Hart 10/7/2013
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Comments about this poem (Her Song by R. K. Hart )
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