I keep to myself. Thought to say hello to any passing fans I have here. What would you like to hear in a classical piano version of?

Enjoy a poem I wrote

54 An Echo.

It was scented pine.

An echo from another world 

She wore the scent.

Streaks of sunset breaking

through soft spoken clouds.

She;

Who I describe

So eloquently.

Was dying in my arms.

We drifted through sunken vineyards

& spoke to ancient walls 

Red was the color

That's all I could remember.

I miss holding on to something

That I have never held on to before

It was a stabbing from a mugging

Air bloomed ripe with cedar wine

I have so little left.

In an empty snow globe

Black with no stars

No sound.

She thought of me,

-Once.

Her lips were red.