And Her Very Name Was Song
by Nicola Bouchier
And her very name was song,
It would fill the room like an echo of forgotten summers.
Summers to which only she belonged.
And she would sing and she would write,
She would shake her long hair down.
She was locked in an eternal fight,
To determine who should wear the lyric crown.
She was wild and she was wanton,
neither right nor wrong,
She could turn men inside out.
And her very name was song.
volume 10(6)
This poem is copyright © 2005,
Nicola Bouchier, all rights reserved.
Find more poems by Nicola Bouchier.
The Web Projects of Sondra Ball and Mario Cavallini
