Violin stringsAs the violin strings tense,waver and beauty arises from them the hairs on the back of my neck prick, these eyes water. This song still haunts me the same as images of his face still do within each restless collection of repeative daydreams. Never to forget that one time we sat on his five dollar coach, listening and belonging to a world all our own. Each tightly pulled string caressing my heart as the pads of male fingers once did upon my pale, tearful cheeks. No maestro held an instrument as delicately as those hands touched my heart shaped face, erasing wet traces of goodbye from my eyes. I loved then. Sitting in the darkened living room, aching for the seconds to stop and that forever could stay a while so I would not be without him. Was his finest masterpiece. For a while. Copyright by PattyR |