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By Laurel Ahlfeld Date: 2010 Jun 24 Comment on this Work [[2010.06.24.18.18.32109]] |
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I am lifted into the sky by your song Twelve instruments playing sadly, all made of strands of my hair Plucked to toss me into the sky as notes are always thrown And when the music stops, the clouds fill their bellies with tears and grow so heavy they slowly sink to the earth and cradle me on their backs to keep me from falling- hard, flat, sharp against the ground I may forget things most say are important like names and faces, but I will remember how the shapes of lips were made and how it made me tingle with anticipation to press them soft against your skin You will create and love and live so as to bring me back from the dead You will play the saddest note- so sad you will turn into a single tear right there and slide into the earth Where you will find me waiting for you- though without the names or faces And I will follow you because I feel the shapes and tingles Don't turn around I will be there. |