With eyes almost closed,
her hands gently slide the length
of microphone
never touching
reflecting chrome

Shimmering sea of iridescent
blue before...
vignetting to the blackness
filled with scores of
throbbing strobes

Sweat stains
leather wristed jewels
shredded knees
of
torn jeans

Making love
to what she
loves
Maxfield Parrish
Ecstasy

Angelic voice
echoes
cosine waves of time
harmonize
and realign

I was there in ‘74
was she?
How can it be
reaping joy… dark, morose
and beautiful

Monumental
changes to our
universe
were only child’s
first idyllic infant, baby steps

Applause from
those
who shared that time
grateful now
to feel once more

A hint of
smile
upon her lips
I know she knows...
how to trip

Lights go low
and silence
screams
years of
long lost memories

                   G. Thomas Edwards