How can a nightmare be a phone call?
That girl is at one end, a violin mind fiddled with fear of clockwork goodbyes.
But she has patient friends that have easily held years in their gentle hands,
They take sweet photographs and forgive a year’s silence or a forgotten birthday-
How did I become horrid in my older age?
Harsh- but I am no longer soft,
Patient, dear patient friends, we are a band of pipes, we will chime again-
and make our way with bagged arms so we can discuss what we’ve been carrying.
If the cost of love is madness, note that down with a doctor’s pen, and let me madly fall for my friends again.
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