The Thrum

 

I listen to the thrumming of the wind

These trees tell stories of a time,

not so different for some,

The climb is still as steep,

Though the hum less rhythmic.


Electricity lays its lines out flat

for us to keep. 



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Words

  that linger like a perfume, Old songs on repeat, What's that on the flip-side - Are the lyrics bittersweet ?