Love/hate relationship with music

I hate
The sound of whispers
Hissing softly
In the street
I hate the lowest note
Coarse and brutal,
Lacks a beat
I hate
The lumber of footsteps
All outside my
Practice room door.
I hate that I’m too
Scared to
Look too closely
Anymore.

I love
The kiss of sunshine
Golden notes
Brush my face
I love the pure vibrato
Sweetest nectar
Swells through space
I love
The pause of intake
Just before they
Decide to applaud.
I love that there’s still
Time to
Love it all
Before I’m gone.

Color and notes.

* Just a poem I composed while on the bus to U of R one evening for Women’s Choir.

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