Wooden Heart

I think the cello is a wooden heart with strings. Can’t it say things in sounds and tones we could never say with words? An extension of the body, I wish I could play. Deep and broken and wooded like thick oak trees. Moaning and sweet like willow leaves.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized, wandering mind, When the sun shines inside. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


Valid XHTML Strict and CSS