We spoke on a long night when we were so much younger.
Our conversation told of interests and hunger.
I don't recall if my violin was still in hand.
But I told you how it kept me from feeling so bland.
'Twas one of my passions free from our family ties.
My brother, violin wasn't in your pursuing eyes.
You understood my feelings as words rolled past my lips.
Since you played viola, you gave some musical tips.
It made you happy to hear I held something so dear.
Your delight over my passion made me feel quite near.
YOU ARE READING
Grains of Graphite Book 1
PoetryGrains of Graphite is a North American poetry collection focusing on a wide range of emotions, many of which are intimate.
