Imagine violins inside my heart,
you can hear them playing softly.
My fingers reach up through me,
you can see the rose i'm sewing.
The vine that paints down the line,
you can watch it curl and tender.
Colors hug the waves of thorns,
you can sleep amongst the petals.

Curl it around the tendrils of red,
it fades to blue in front of you.
Somewhere into the dark it lights,
the path to the sun sits waiting.

The violin sings along with the sounds,
you can hear it in the flowing paint.
Breath weaves braids of blue up my skirt,
you can hear it in the wind and brush.
Imagine as the violins drip melancholy,
you can watch their eyes melt into wax.
Time sinks into the rythm and melody,
you can see my painting string the line.

The bridge sits in the yellow distance,
you can listen to the song to cross.
Wind dances around your wide eyes,
you can see one direction of me.
The screaming melody circles your feet,
you feel my hand and yours intertwine.
When the violin tells you to look up at the song,
you stop to pick the black rose.

08/22/2005

Author's Note: I have access to a computer now, so i'm posting some poetry. I've never visited this site on a regular basis, so i'm going to start doing so. This poem means a lot to me.

Posted on 08/22/2005
Copyright © 2025 Meagan Green