Okay.
I stole this title
From an old tune
That isn’t sung but spoken
Because
It reminded me
Of how I
Watched you that night
In performance
And noticed
How what you
Were creating
Affected everything
And how I went home
And have been writing
About nothing since
But
How you moved
Caught up in something
Better captured in a picture
Than in thoughts.
But as words are all I have
I’ll just say I still dream about
Untamed hair
Obscuring all but the motion of your
Fingers
On the strings
And how my breath stopped
In that moment
And still does.

– Anne Mikusinski

editors note: To be a fan, to have a fan, to fan the flame and not flicker… – mh clay