inner ache

Born to bend, not to break
Still silent from that inner ache
Gently tickled ivories
Memories carried in the breeze
All feels winter now
Cold as snow on top the bough
But not breaking
Only aching
Restless and bones
Ashes and stones
A phoenix arise
A sudden surprise
Unknown, silent, hidden
Melancholy bitten
What is this hole?
The itch only cured by a fulfilled soul
Promised to bend, never to break
Or give up the ghost of the inner ache