Listening to the whispers at a late night
I try to compose a song with my lonely guitar.
Standing on an old bridge
I gaze at the calm river flows down.
...
Read full text
Lovely. The moon captured in the river, the nostalgic old bridge, the lonely guitar player. May the music never end. Warm regards, Sandra
A burst of youthful exuberance just cannot be stopped, despite the solemn scene you are portraying with such seriousness. Your 'clumsy glee' made such a neat twist to this reflective poem. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥