There is a constant drone gently tapering off
Something like horns, instruments of the wind
Long and drawn out
Haunting strings that don't last, without a break
Silence in-between, while I catch my breath
Peace, this is peace
Where I close my eyes, and drift
I can't stay here forever listening
I wouldn't if I could
I'm momentarily conditionally present
Conducting business you might say
Until my name is called
Related Subjects
Poetry