Picture of a duclitone musical instrument.
“Qasida of the Dulcitone”
In the quiet of the evening glow,
Where melodies drift and whispers flow,
The dulcitone sings, a gentle refrain,
Its notes, like silver rain, softly fall again.
Crafted from wood, with precision and grace,
Each key a story, each sound a trace,
Of joy and sorrow, of dreams that entwine,
Resonating softly, a treasure divine.
With fingers that dance like shadows of light,
The dulcitone beckons the heart to take flight,
A harmony woven through night’s velvet seam,
Awakening spirits, igniting the dream.
Its timbre, a balm for the weary soul,
In a world that rushes, it makes the heart whole,
With echoes of laughter, of love’s sweet embrace,
It cradles our sorrows, in its tender space.
O dulcitone, whisperer of the breeze,
You weave through the silence, you bring us to peace,
In your gentle caress, we find our release,
In the tapestry of sound, we discover our ease.
So let the dulcitone play through the night,
In the cradle of shadows, in the soft, silver light,
For each note that lingers, each chord that we share,
Is a thread of connection, a bond we declare.
(2-25-2007)
