Music

Flowery words when dance on the tongue, Throat that over flows with the airy lung Then butterflies fly with fragrant song, And then soul chases the joy to hear it long, Song is like magic and words are the wand Poets are none less than a wizard of hope, Un-rhymed is a noise, annoyance we find Rhyming the thought is peace of the mind Within the song if soul does’t soaks grief, Then mind is not grief free, hence no relief, Music that touches the soul is the music best, Pleasant music is the song, and noise the rest Those who don’t sing the song of peace keeps Un-rhymed life and it is full of noise, it pricks