Playgrounds Of Lovers Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Singing violin taking us into playgrounds of lovers where they
turn about and roam into shadows after many moments walking
down train tracks trying to find their way home.

Nothing to stand in the way, moving up and down the violin,
giving pleasure that never quits, stepping and racing against
time and rhythm.

Loving every sound as it explodes into colors of the desert,
waking the very essence of imagery as it delights in moments
of joy.

Wandering along tracks, whistle blowing, leaving behind towns
of sleeping people in the middle of the night, adjusting and
toning prolific moments of rhythms as they race up and down.

Gliding through many measures of each and every song tonight,
focused and staying on track, beating in strings of strength
all across the dance floor.

Wonder and glee escaping from guitars all night long express-
ing plaintive cries of loss and grief, polishing moments, dust-
ing off aged markers of yesterday.

Why? because they take our eyes from the fractious beauty of
their style, anchoring and shoving off throughout the years,
falling into depths of what used to be called upon.

Taking us forever all through moments of yesterday, moving
forward and never slowing down, a special gift of wonder to
bring us home tonight.