By Michael Aaron Gallagher
Your fingers,
the dance,
like a castle in the sand.
Your eyes,
the sky,
like a wave upon the shore.
Your lips,
the reach,
like a conductor’s symphony.
Your mind,
the song,
like a lover’s gentle touch.
Your soul,
the picture,
like an endless overture.
Excerpt from Michael Aaron Gallagher’s unpublished book of poetry titled “Worn-Out Cinema.” Copyright © 2000.
The above work is not to be used, reprinted or broadcast without written permission from the author.