Even as the blabbering ivory fingers
releases the rhythmic pulses of passion
stressing soulful melodies
of bygone one night stands
my pulse still reaches for that one song
that scatters my imagination into the void
of waiting for your electric touch.
I too will wait for you in Rockland.
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© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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