Chopin

Writing 1 Minute

The soothing of a Chopin nocturne,

Lulls the sinking of youthful hardness,

For I was winter, expected but rebuffed,

Fastened to a cyclic fickleness,

I loved things for their reciprocation,

Not to love for its existence,

Playing the keys of life out of tune,

If you listened closely melody

Appeared, faint but a whisper was there,

And a hardness not even a romantic, could repair.

Photo by Ryan Holloway on Unsplash

Published by ruckwarrior

From the desert sands to the wilderness to the writing pad is where you'll find me these days. I'm a veteran turned storyteller writing about life and war. I capture the human experience through fresh eyes, compassion, and an open heart. Vulnerability and candidness are the lifeblood to my storytelling. My writing encompasses war, life after war, the outdoors, the reality and struggles we all face while living as guests on this earth, and joy that can be had once we discover ourselves.

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