poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “violin”

how long this time

there’s nothing complicated about it she says
but I disagree without saying a word
stuffing whatever personal belongings
I can find into my weatherworn backpack

a lone violin begins playing on the radio
and suddenly I am transported to another day

she continues to talk above the music
most likely of money and promises and roses
but all I can hear is the violin lifting my spirits

she rises off of the bed and reaches for the radio
asking how long I’ll be gone this time
knowing full well the answer is probably forever

february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the violin and the piano

their sound supersedes the
clamor and the simmering pot
not quite boiling
not quite understood

the floors mean nothing
since they’ve been replaced
replaced but not restored
never to be the same

appearing out of nowhere
like a silver moon in disguise
the music filters through
making my world come to life

the violin and the piano
still echo in these walls
comforting my sorrow
and giving me repose

september two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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