Phone calls and inquiries,
linen paper, letters and scores:
these moments swing around
like a merry-go-round.
I'm 7 again, small and fragile -
tough and invincible inside -
and playmates cling onto
rails, round and round,
their faces a swirled marble,
into one being, one memory.
Each person lost to the place,
the music, dancing, drinking,
smoking, joking, laughing...
Oh, laughter down to the heart.
First hugs, smiles not forgotten.
Art created, shared, given away.
Porch ramblings, drunk singing,
long walks talking poetry,
bluegrass jams and secret selves:
these indeed are of you and me.
-----------------------------------------------------------
.... I still feel more is needed for this piece, but for now I have got to leave....
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