The three sisters, archaic *

How the three, sisters true,
Musically wrapped create a view,
How music had been so eternal,
How in songs, tides rise and fall,

Painted with craft, spread so like art,
How doth they create, songs alive and smart,

How they doth fill empty spaces with ease
Music as they doth make to be carried by the breeze,

A sweeping one, wonderous lyrical air,
How the three sisters, doth generate fair
Songs and poems mixed right in proportion,
How the three, doth create a flow of Poesy, in motion,

The more I chance to look at them,
The more I go into a musical poem,

A poem perhaps of spring , of summer,
Coming early, to bloom like a passionate flower,

On the bed of one's heart, a fertile ground,
How the three sisters, by songs, keep me bound,

Yet how the three look so painted archaic,
Yet how the sisters, with unheard music doth stick.

(*Note: upon a painting loosely based as attached; courtesy: Ocean's bridge.)


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