Yay! Another time wasting poem I wrote. This is a tribute to Demyx, whom I aspire to become, the Melodious Nocturne, but I have a long way to go. Yes, please read and review.
A lone flute plays an empty melody
There is no heart or soul in the music
Yet still it breathes, still it plays
Finger fly along in a well known rhythm
A tired sigh echoes around
A soft smiled graced his lips
He knows his time is near
Yet the music never stops
No, not till the last note plays
He plays to the moon and it's empty stare
To the stars that bathes him in an angelic light
To the earth, which his empty music fills
The sun that banishes the shadows
The air that fills his now gone lungs
And the water, the empty replica of himself
A calm wave, a deadly tempest
Now an audience gathers, sneering at his nothingness
Still he plays, waiting patiently for his time
The light shines upon him and he smiles
Finally remembered and saved
His audience feeds on the shell he leaves behind
As the last note plays
Please R&R as mentioned before. I never get much recognition for my work, so anything is appreciated.