London Poem: Day 28

14 September

Our steps lengthen gracefully,
Full of musing rhythms,
Pinched between climbing
Scales and sloping melodies–
We compose without composure,
But no matter, our march hardly falters.
It’s a great swelling noise
Moving forward, continuously growing
Never lacking beauty.
Notes cut through reason,
Escaping softly through lulling elegance,
And still we move, blindly.
But, together, if we falter
The music will continue
And we’ll still move with it.

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