Sonata

It's all very different

You know 

The way the sunflowers smells in the morning 

And how the moonlight sonata

Ripples the realms of reality 

Almost as if I was never here

But I remember this uncanny sense of familiarity 

That seems to tie me to a memory 

So overly haunting   

It awakes the ghouls of lost souls 

While stitching together 

The bonds of that which was to be forgotten 

And, In my heart I know this has to be the work of the devil 

Yet, the fragment pieces of his labor 

Alters the sounds of that which was once classic

So,confused to the composition at hand 

I carelessly let the strain of my troubling curiosity dilute itself  

As I find the grace of God among the petals of a sun lit flower

~ Tony Paradise's Poet ~