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A Song from our Ancestors
Through the darkest blue of midnight
I see the winter of life's song,
I hear the sweetness of a melody
in a time that is all wrong;
I can hear off in the distance
a knowing tune that whistles, free
and, I can hear a song that's wrong, you must agree.
Notes are played, by memory
while not adhering to the score,
I hear a tune that waits for no one
for those who wait, on the dancing floor,
I feel the message of a lyric
that sings a song of what's in store,
and the harmonies of a tune that does implore.
Style / type:
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity):
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction):
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage:
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Comments
scribbler
Tue, 2011-01-18 08:59
hello doc
I often hear the lines of ancestors late at night also. I have a few variation if you care to hear them
L-6 delete "the"
L-7 try :I can hear a song that's wrong, for both you and me
L-8 try : I see notes played by memory
last line you could add really in front of care
just a few ideas on a write that is good as is........................scribbler