& I sit, sippingice water &her lips,  quelling thirst for fiery sun falling in eyes, deepas an oceanside sunset.  a saxophonist, lulling soulsinto the place onlyflying gulls& free balloons float, plays notesthat  tango  like candlelightdancing withtwilight; it was twilight, decade prior,she  came  to leave me, &thru the nightstayed in a wool  blanket lightlysipping tea, while I ...

Inked fingers crack open the shell.Inked fingers have a story to tell.Some may be true, others not.Inked fingers say a lot. Copyright © 2022 Maggie Watson All Rights Reserved