Moments are possible

Night falls.

Pooled in lamplight

at the piano

your singing

rises, pauses,

punctuating

embryonic phrases

for the poem

forming in my head. Four walls

palpitate,

publishing accord, as--

separate

and yet united--

we push ahead

with all that lies

beyond

each noted word.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...