Tag: beat

  • Improv

    In the sway of the blues

    that followed,

    I think I remember

    a cry. Separate from the

    melody and in memory

    a beat

    which danced amongst

    the guitar strings.

     

    And if I were to listen

    closely,

    intimately,

    I think I might

    hear the bars,

    which surrounded it,

    pause;

     

    wait for some

    small thing

    that never quite

    returns.

     

    Nia Griffiths, 2017

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