His voice pours out, smooth as cream, while the strings are fingered and thumbed
Her voice floats atop cathartic chords, as she sings of this journey to death
And all the while, my mind has snagged upon a jutting piece of past
Unaware, I move along, stretching memories into taunting, perfect dreams
I slowly notice and start to untangle myself, not rushing (in that moment) to be off
But when I turn to go, the damage is done, and mockingly the music plays
August 15-19, 2009
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1 comments:
Rich and evocative piece.
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