Ficly

A Movement for Rosa

Soaring flutes and drowning clarinets…horns with a sound so thick with emotion you could wrap yourself in it… And through it all a melody that haunts one’s memory.
“Rosa…”
Her name and the casket within which her body is contained float in the air, and slowly the flautist begins. The ethereal harmonies wind their way into everyone’s hearts and a dry eye is nowhere to be found as the earth covers her eternal peace.
From dust she came and to dust she shall return. A full circle as the music fades away into nothing.

inspired by the piece of the same name, by Mark Camphouse.

This story has no comments.