Brass

by Chani Zwibel / June 3rd, 2018

Bright trumpet so loud it hurts my ears.
It plays on all my deepest fears.
Yet while I grit my teeth in consternation,
Some greet the sound with celebration.
They hear a symphony, sweet tunes.
I hear a tower tumbling to ruins.
They call me fragile, frightened child.
They think the trumpet sings so mild.
They do not hear its brass voice calling.
They do not see the castle falling.

Chani Zwibel is a graduate of Agnes Scott College, a poet, wife and dog-mom who was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but now dwells in Marietta, Georgia. She enjoys writing poetry after nature walks and daydreaming. Read other articles by Chani.

This article was posted on Sunday, June 3rd, 2018 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.