Where Is The Flute? Poem by Peter S. Quinn

A day is for tomorrow in its giving
If build up on your dreams with a flute song
Softness pitch for the comfort of living
In the compartments of the dreams you long
Like a tinctured radiance of its true gold
The dreams are for you to take and give away
The air in its circling motion you can't hold
There are too many dreams for each coming day

The man who's showing in reddening light
Aspects of inspirations awaken
Shall tender feelings throughout eve and night
Until every tone is from it taken
Where is his flute then when he is alone?
And dusk in his dreaming is his only tone