deepundergroundpoetry.com

Dropings, Dropings

We drop a tone-tuned

guitar and harmonica:

you breathe in and out

through the holes and

reeds:  you finally

find the melody, rhyme,

rhythm:  our souls are

air, they hold us together:

listen, the music will

last until space/time ends:

because you are playing it,

your breath contains the universe.
Written by marcella1
Published
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