Thursday 29 November 2012

Play

Sons, alive in my mind’s eye,
wear guitar and tee-shirts, lyrical ones
strum and (in sing-song) blue notes fly;
faces aglow like hot stones.

Strings are shimmering side-by-side
and faces stand eager in the bar-room door;
enjoying the craick, along for the ride
of brothers and magical music once more.

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