Thursday, April 9, 2009

Not Poem #1

This could be the twenty millionth
poem written in the key of A minor
sung to the tune of a far-off guitar
held by hands that shake but play
music she always knew existed
but never heard until her body
rose up from its position of sitting back
stood a bit unsteady but full of wonder
so she could hold her ear a little closer
to the window that yesterday had been
shuttered to any sound at all.

She spreads her fingers
against cool glass to remember
how good it was to feel.

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