What I wouldn’t give to fully grasp each step leading here
Moments chalked into memory, easily given way to new rains
Collected in oiled steps, sliding back through the spectrum
Every fluorescent sound I’ve become, now unbound
A shadow on the memory, struggling to be seen, always seen, never heard
The violinist swayed like smoke. The small crowd followed suit as he laid a spell over them with his dance. The beat of the small drum set vibrated through the ground just enough for the man to keep time along.
He squinted as the bow struck and slid across the strings while the violinists’ fingers moved devilishly quick. The young girl beside him slid a crumpled piece of paper into the palm of his hand.
“It sounds like blue, light not dark, like watching storm clouds or flying towards the stars with wind in your hair. It feels like love.”