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UntitledYou were born dancing naked on A city street.Untitled
And your breath was the whining whisper of a harmonica held childishly in the large leather hands
of a farmer as he plays his seed a soft spring Song.
You sing and your Voice is the city itself.
Each footstep,
Each lovers whisper Each family fight Each metallic crack of machinery,
Each tear that hits the
pillow,
Each whirl of the underground
train
my own steady heartbeat makes the notes, every one
clear and distinct, all
played at
by ~Tahryn-Justice
Haightby ~Tahryn-Justice
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