Touchstone Tuesday: Poem XII

Music is a formed space

and lyrics, the beaten door,

when I hear a song played

I’m thrown onto its floor.

And, without authority,

I’m made to recall,

where I was and what I felt

when I first was made to fall.

Thrown back into the room

where my olden thoughts were sketched,

turned about by dancing memories,

I fell forward and I retched.

Author: faithhealthandmusings

When life offers us so rich a bounty of inspiration, how can we help but to reflect in writing all that climbs into our hearts and takes up residence there?

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