Story time

They howl and sing under the moon,

cursing when dawn comes calling

all too soon.

But each evening out they sneak

and dance among the fireflies

atop the mountain’s peak.

Telling tales from ancient times,

passed down the family lines,

so none will forget

the history of all fairy kind.

 

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A concert of carols

It’s the pause in the air,

The silence as your voice is pulled from your throat

Spun into flickers of light

And warmth

Then released like a blanket over the crowd.

The orchestra joins,

The swell deepens

And the night is alight

With cheer and merriment.

Rolling chances

How do you weave a web

if you don’t have a corner to claim as your own?

 

How do you spin the spindle

if there is no wheel or thread to be found?

 

How do you sing a note

when your voice is too worn to be heard?

 

And when do you have a chance

to raise your hand

when the forest is already crowded?

Grim Street Music – for all your musical needs

Every time I try to practice with my violin,

the world goes rather peculiar,

 

as a funeral march sings out of it

and humanity drops to its feet.

 

My pet mice love it, they get to

dance freely out of their cage.

 

The owner of the quaint music shop

where I bought it did say the wood

 

it was made from came

from an unconventional source

 

before turning back to the coffin

that was the sales counter.