Speakers Poem by Star Dust

A platinum color,
As light passes,
It turns to gray,
In the aging years,
It won’t rust,
Only dust will settle,
And music will blast through the blackness,
Then the little light will fade,
And come back on,
When the button is pushed,
Louder then softer,
The knob is twisted,
Then the power blacks out,
And it’s time for the ears to rest,
Then it starts all over again,
Switching from song to song,
The crackling noise,
When it doesn’t respond,
Connecting the wires,
Changing the play speed,
Turning on the effects,
To find a completely different sound,
It flows out the speakers,
Into the air,
Into the ear,
And into the mind.