Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Flowers and Notes

Jasmine flowers and the Violin

The fragrance grips me
And the notes out of the bow
Shoot me into a creation of
The movement of her fingers.

The notes high and low
The silence and the stray note
Recreate the lost fragrance.

The smell becomes touch,
Sound becomes smell
Vision is blurred with tears
As notes scale their heights.

Into unision, the senses melt
As the music is dwelt.

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