Unfinished Symphonies
P
Practicing Poetess
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As the story of your life
Is being penned,
You're like a blank music staff
Being filled in.
Here a note, and there a pause:
The tempo slows.
What's next, only the Master
Composer knows.
How much care and thought goes in
To every part
Beautiful arrangement, this
A work of art
A crescendo, a descant
To please the ear
Lovely harmonies that thrill
All those who hear
As we live and breathe, we're all
Unfinished art
As the Master adds more notes
Born from His heart.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş