Artistic Liberty
My
cousin wrote this in February. I wish I had the eloquence to express my thoughts as well as she can read my mind. Thanks cuz.
Philosopher II
when i flick my wrist, my chord resonates.
my scraping fingers, trying to relive those moments, falter. my tribute is not
in tune, and flawed.
i remember those beautiful moments - hanging in the air with blue-tune
tendrils of fluttering smoke and red-wine ribbons and magic tensions that
would go on forever if anyone let them.
underground, around the corner, it was always so.
