The Harp
A harp lights the sky
In the pale moonlight
The soft strum of her fingers
Turn the flowers to singers
The breeze tries to coax her to play
In the desperation of the day
But when the sun hangs low
And the moon dominates the snow
Her strings are heard through the kingdom
She plays for freedom
She plays for sleep
She plays to make the giant weep
Guide that inspired this poem: