Tune upon a Lyre

Tied tight, never to fray.

Affixed within a tortoise shell

Strummed by the hands of a Muse so they say

Calmer than a drum and softer than a bell.


Many sailors have heard the songs of a siren

Their watery deaths a tribute to her singing.

But nothing compares to that miniscule harp, not even the work of the great Byron.

Sounds sweet enough to silence an infant’s crying.


This gift granted from the sun above

That man who quelled Hades’ deadly fire.

With his fingers soothed hell’s savage beast for his love

He won back his love, but in the end lost what he truly desired.


That instrument’s music shall glow in the darkest of caves like the shine from a sapphire.

A tune played upon a lyre.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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