Knoa Sivan

Out of the blue

Artist/Poet, Mother and friend.






In the blue velvet boughs' seclusion,

alone, she waited for none,

but for one by him

in whom her love,

avowed, was number one



Her strings were tuned just perfectly,

as so tenderly he had strung,

while he followed her neck with the

melodies, with all that of love they had

sung



In silent refrain she awaits,

for her Maestro to open the door,

as dreams recall the brighter tune,

of she, and her love afore



Upon her curves he caressed,

the shape of her as she lay,

while upon her neck his fingerprints,

with passion paved the way



memories were made together,

with music that flow from his veins,

now the whole of her inheritance

 and the last

of loves remains



Upon tablature of white,

written in notes of black,

memories of loves’ melodies

before it's presence lack,



A maestro's song of melody,

etched upon her heart,

where now her bosom empty, bare,

left hollow he depart



She looks for the conductor,

that sings into her soul,

while in the darkened corner

she pines for he,

And he alone



With rosened bow prepared,

she longs of his return,

reminded of his gentle touch,

continually as she yearn



Her music is his untill then,

he returns to her and

when,



A final performance

is allowed,

Of her and the Maestro's love

to recite once more and take final bow


How long for him she will await,

in silent refrain is uncertain,

Until at once

loves' closing call,

bring down it's final curtain



She anticipates the time,

in darkened silence as it pass,

to be in his arms once more again,

with music eternal at last



With love as a standing ovation

that echo the hull of her chest,

only then will the silent refrain

by the boughs of blue

let go to give her rest





In the blue velvet boughs of seclusion,



alone,

she waited for love.




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