When a cello plays
I think of you so fondly ~
moisture on my cheeks.
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This is where my thoughts pool as a reservoir of miscellany and peculiarity. It's actually not my brain that's dripping -- it's my soul that's leaking. It's really no big deal.
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Volume of Looking (poems)
Sound, like scent....such strong memories. Violin will always be associated with one child, Clarinet the other. Piano to me, guitar to him. A symphony of memories in one single song.
ReplyDeleteYes, sound evoking so much.
ReplyDelete