Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Strings of a Violin

A violin player
sounding under a fallen leaf
of a bronze rusted fall
searching for love and other lies
he plays his moves
her eyes wide as flames
no shadow, secrets
a burning obstacle along his tune
the strings are long and thin
one can fall over an edge
listening leaves tear down
laying on a moist floor,
feeling his firm posture on the ground
her dark hair wails, the wooden violin
a moving solid within his hands
curves boil through his bloodstream
and yet the road is left mute

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