Charlotte Ballard

After The Gold Rush - Poem by Charlotte Ballard

My hands tingle
From a scant practice
To strengthen something
Broken, stretched out of place.
The keys, black and white
Bend obediently forward
Returning back
To original haunty spaces
Before the emperor's robe.
What makes me go to
Where the music curves
Up and tingles my
Eyes behind the paper?
I sneeze for want of something

Comments about After The Gold Rush by Charlotte Ballard

  • (8/15/2005 10:53:00 PM)

    I like this poem. Thank you for that poem. It's good. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 15, 2005

Poem Edited: Monday, March 11, 2013

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