Three notes all it took
They knew they knew the tune
And skipped on by
They’re skippers or seekers
Searching for the unrecognized
The never heard
I’ve heard your notes
But never learned them
I rehearsed and I sang along
And I didn’t skip on by
The song is only a trickle now
I’m guarding it with my life
Like the last tributary
Of a once great river
Ran dry from drought and misuse
You are wind chimes and crickets
And leaves crunching underfoot
I told you I Hold the Sound, a poem likely in flux.
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