IVORY FINGERS

gypsy notes a vagabond song refreshing, like spring rain, the fragrance rising from warm roads a moment alive sounds from angels a familiar language fluid and flowing a joyful expression breaking within the air circling like mighty winds striking solidly a message completed      

BLENDING

The secret of being lost is the disregard for being found   the luxury of blending to be part of unseen corners drifting away from everyone’s roads   brushing past idle spirits and obstacles in the path   the soul of travel are tents left behind   places where a moment was meant for a … More BLENDING

IVORY FINGERS

A gypsy vagabond of notes, refreshing like spring rain, lifted up with the fragrance from warm roads mixed with cut grass, a moment alive with sound from angels as the piano created a language, familiar to itself yet unknowing to many nearby, listening as they would a speech dry from paper, lifeless, missing the fluid … More IVORY FINGERS