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A Song from our Ancestors

Through the darkest blue of midnight
I see the winter of life's song,

I hear the sweetness of a melody
in a time that is all wrong;

I can hear off in the distance
a knowing tune that whistles, free
and, I can hear a song that's wrong, you must agree.

Notes are played, by memory
while not adhering to the score,

I hear a tune that waits for no one
for those who wait, on the dancing floor,

I feel the message of a lyric
that sings a song of what's in store,
and the harmonies of a tune that does implore.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


I often hear the lines of ancestors late at night also. I have a few variation if you care to hear them
L-6 delete "the"
L-7 try :I can hear a song that's wrong, for both you and me
L-8 try : I see notes played by memory
last line you could add really in front of care

just a few ideas on a write that is good as is........................scribbler

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