Symphony

On the wending, stair pocked path down to the Wailing Wall, 

Each level bleeds the music of lone musicians.

Clarinet, flute, violin, sing the same slow honey tune from my past

He says, “Why don’t they all go play together at the top?”

I say, “Maybe that’s the metaphor”

Angel

 Settle softly, settle sweet

Greet every man that you may meet. 

Velvet, onyx, silky fur

Immerse yourself into the blur. 

Taken fingers twine to me!

I’ll disappear before you see. 

Under mountain, over lake,

I fly to home before you wake.