.
I stroll in with a satchelful
of spoken-phrases
ink sympathy on A4
he reads out of his hand
held screen unpolished
smudged with struggle
she sings
through fumbled chords
a two hundred year ache
in her voice
.
.
.
I stroll in with a satchelful
of spoken-phrases
ink sympathy on A4
he reads out of his hand
held screen unpolished
smudged with struggle
she sings
through fumbled chords
a two hundred year ache
in her voice
.
.