The old horn lay in the corner sad and unused.
Gathering dust as if it were just a hunk of brass.
Supposedly inanimate, it was nonetheless confused.
It was once so much more than just mere mass.
Whatever its master asked was perfectly played
causing all hearing to stop, freezing in their tracks,
listening in rapture and awe to the notes so made
flowing through their ears and down their backs.
But now it was forgotten and idle, the notes missing.
Its master had left this earthly plane crushed and alone,
his one true love having died while they were kissing.
Heart broken, he lay in sorrow unable even to moan.
Days passed and, painfully, he stood up somehow.
Starving and filthy, he wandered out into the cold.
And there, too weak to stop it, he took his last bow
and froze as the horn remembered the notes of old...
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mindbringer, 29 July 2017
