String-Movements
When evening’s bass tone whips a refrain
Strummed by an old man in our country yard;
A most haunting string--movement dims the air
Reminiscent of my young, bygone days.
His fiddle plucks through my hidden places
Where the touch wails speak through acoustic waves
Dragging notes from torn memories’ past
While first love grates … as I think of blackbirds.
Brian's Choice 7 for Brian Strand
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2017
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