An abstract verse brings out the eyes, said the florist.
How one cradles a thunderstorm is philosophy. As is counting your lover’s footsteps on the untuned floor as the footsteps turn into motes in the afternoon light.
Every dream is a superstition that has a lot to say about you.
Do you hear, as well, the climbing notes in the setting sun? The bird-like departure of psychology into the horizon?
A psychology that has the structure of an invisible violin and an imaginary amulet. That with the changing of the seasons will find its way back to you.
naïve haircuts 
I have to open my ears more, Bob 🙂
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Haha. Thanks, John!
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Great first line, Bob 😊
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Thanks!!
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Your poems are always fun, thought provoking. And we all need an imaginary amulet to protect us.
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Thanks, Diana!😊
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