Day 21: Instrument

Swaying sound in the wind like a lost soul
Something special transcends classification
It isn’t meandering but beyond control
You can call it a fixation with an affiliation

Bearing the smell of a distant age
Akin to a smile with attentiveness
It can never bring itself to assuage
Call it a suggestion with a selectiveness
A tender kiss with great effectiveness

An instrument that needs to be touched right at the right time
To be understood and felt because only then is the pleasure sublime