Sound

You’re just a sound,

you’re not a word, you’re not a vowel,

you are a sigh that’s floating high above the

bridges that cross the rivers where my water flows…

You’re just like litter in the street,

that I notice when I chance to meet acquaintances in nearby bars,

rubbish on sidewalks that I see as I pass by,

and seconds later well forgotten…

A drop of rain is not a storm,

but it is part of that which forms

a shield of water to replace

the dust that settled on my face

while travelling through

forgotten years

dreaming of things I feared.

But a drop cannot wipe clean the dust of years,

of iron that has turned to rust,

of bad decisions,

of wrong turns,

of things that I must surely burn

with flames that beckon and inspire,

from life’s eternal fire…

So I don’t listen,

I can’t hear, the sounds that,

as they reach my ears,

become complacent and leave out,

those that I long to hear about,

through evening’s laughter,

vodka, gin,

and all our other sins…

You’re just a sound, you’re not a word,

but a sound I’ve always heard…

C.2020, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 26 JAN 2020, Valencia, Spain

INSTAGRAM: @Francisco_Bravo_Cabrera

JaZzArt en Valencia, 2019 Collections: http://www.ArtPal.com/rfbravo1155

Piano Jazz, by my group AJA: http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/aja

THANKS!

12 comments

  1. Sandra Morgan · January 26

    Beautiful

  2. ourcrossings · 30 Days Ago

    Absolutely love it, Francisco. Thanks for sharing and have a good day 😀 According to the forecast, we are expecting snow tomorrow, I hope there is heaps of it. Monday’s are my day off, so I can just sit by the fireplace and count falling snowflakes ❄️

  3. gifted50 · 30 Days Ago

    Beautifully said. love your words.

  4. sharmisthacontractor · 30 Days Ago

    Beautiful colours

  5. tiffanyarpdaleo · 29 Days Ago

    Wonderful!

  6. short-prose-fiction · 29 Days Ago

    The art is so beautiful, and the poem…

    “You’re just a sound, you’re not a word,
    but a sound I’ve always heard…”

    Don’t sell your words for silver coins, because they are gold.
    G.

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