There is a musician a couple of houses down who tells me of love stories and epic battles. In my mind he is a man whose soul escapes to paint moments in time. His instrument is a violin and his music is an exquisite potion. I imagine him as a montage of beauty and betrayal, anticipation and fate, wrapped in a heartbeat and bones. I hear him become his instrument as emotion fills the space between us. His entire existence mixed with exciting crescendo and devastating diminuendo.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.09 seconds at 7:21pm on Nov 23, 2024 via server WEBX2.