Create While Here
Before and after we are the colors of night,
And in between we cast light upon those we may never see.
�I have a cello piece he did in 1959 for radio�
�She painted as if her life depended on it.�
�You hang on every word.�
�I saw my life in his stone.�
And all these are true-
String slip, curving phrase, pushed brush.
Users and owners here then gone.
But catches in heart they make. Filled eyes, lovers sighs, easy mouths on bodies.