Crisp paper for words
angled under the rooms light
a beach soothed
by the ponder of hands
Eyes trace pages
on a brief strand of white
That strays to the swing of blue
Night wind follows
the waved warmth of covers
that hide
the sigh you almost sighed
the startle you almost heard
As a guitar player dissolves
in the sleek of an afternoon
a silken voice sifts
from the shiver of memories…
a wanderer that recalls
of the salve of oneself