The Musician
Within those few moments, I saw a perfection in his music, in his voice and in everything which belonged to him!
Groomed me to its rhythm,
Soft blowing wind
My vacuum mind.
His trembling strings
and closed eyes somewhere,
I add to his music
A long, long sigh.
Silent way, calm tree,
Waiting doors, listening hall.
Only fast running blood
Through his blackish hand.
He stopped. People clapped.
He packed, He left.
Turning in the dark on
old and arrogant scooter.
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