Back in Prison

Let me tell you a little story,

About a strangely symphonic place,

The music would resound like worry,

But I listened at leisurely pace.

Learning the notes I made my own tune,

Shaking the shackles tied in cages,

Then the clanging of metal died soon,

Down halls I had now stayed for ages.

Was it through grace of epiphany,

To which I'd been numb avoidantly,

As my old mate chained in disorder,

Finally found solace of slumber.

As my tuned spirit met light of day,

My page of notes guided me away,

I turned to face the hushed horizon,

Hearing the music play back in prison.