Memories of my Brother

I decided I would challenge myself to write a poem for my brother every day this month and this is the result. It is rough and rugged and it is a mere work-in-progress but I'm just writing down stuff I want to say.


4. IV

We were an orchestra conducted by you
And I let the patterns of my bow
Weave wherever you sent them
You guided the strings
And set my trailing and my trembling
To a score of your creation
Which I followed you through
To the thickness of the timbre
At it's edges.
And you crimped my fingers into place
On my recorder
When you shut them in the door frame
And the thinness of my voice
Latched onto the air
Like the first note of a symphony
Too sad to be heard
By ears that could still hear
The words that the sun had spilt
For them.
You said you were sorry
But you were a conductor
And so I was forced to beat time
To your apology
With a nod of my head.

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