The lyrics were his and so were the cords so well tuned
Then he thought himself unfit to play the flute and sing
That song that he used to sing was left tunelessly unsung
But he kept the flute and the soulful notes
The musical lyrics remained in his bones
Soon he realised he ought to have played his hearty tunes
That he never sought less than singing in such fine tones
He lamented the lost notes and the drifting away lyrics
Hardest as he concentrated he felt he had lost the histrionics
Was the music all gone with his unsung song?
Or would he ever again compose melody so strong?
Recollecting he gathered his garments of life and readied for strife
No stone would be unturned and no moment spared of his life
Because hardest as the shell of struggle to reclaim remained
He would have sufficient stores of pursuit for reclaim retained
To go after the tune and tones and lyrics
And rebuild his song on new musical bricks
By THE POET IN ME
Andrew Onalenna Sesinyi
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