Unheard Melodies Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

People, faces, places, things
Weaving through my life on wings
Golden, olden sounding strings
Melodies that we oft sing

Harps and harpsichords of yore
Hidden deep in archives’ store
Varnished, tarnished wooden shelves
Only heard by fragile elves

Often sounding like the wind
Ever constant rhyming things
Overtones and ditties bold
Never bought and never sold

Written down on clouds and reeds
Heard by those who sleep in weeds
Errant ones would if they could
Hear what children understood.