A Single Glass of White Wine

Dominated by the music
Unable to speak
The years of struggle
Inside me like an iron cage
With no gate
I hung there, a muted tortured songbird
In the Italian Restaurant
On Bethnal Green Road

Music, that swinging lamp
Carried through a storm
Lit only for special occasions
Filled my ears at last
Like the whistle of a runaway train
And all I had to help the pain
Was a single glass of white wine

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances. View all posts by blackbird212012