Music to Mine Ears

The music begins to crawl into shape,
It twists and turns about the very nape,
Begins to waltz to it's own tune, made bold
By a strong influx that winds; it takes hold
Of the box, causes it to unwind sound,
Causing the world to cease being so round.
Yet song, by it's nature, is a changeling
That forces humanity not to sing
What is in the head; rather it suggests
With a sigh, a grimace, and joking jests,
That the heart is where song crawls from,
The sinews are strings that give it's shape form,
And it twists and turns through the blood of man
As fast as the wind is blown through a fan.

                    Music to Mine Ears, (c) Luke Bennette, May 2012