Writer1326

Growing up, music was always a constant. 

Then, it meant very little to me. 

It was only background noise, but always there. 

With the crashing tide,

And wisps of wind, 

Rain melts all there was. 

And all that will ever be. 

As water rises in the sea. 

Moving mountains,

Falling fountains, 

Whispers of time,

And whatever is mine. 

Holding power,

A complex shower, 

Drawn to the sky,

A magnet within a sigh.

The gleam I know all too well,

With words to say, stories to tell.

Wrapping around me,

Rooted in denial,