15 January 2014

f#m

The shape of these four fingers
takes me there, to the beach house
by the sand and green waters.

Cool cement floors under bare foot
sweat and questions
a piano untuned by the hearth.

This shape has been
many other moments, but
this is the one that rises up

Like green weeds covering
the still waters of Lake Winona.

No comments:

Post a Comment