Fingertip brushes against metal.
A whisper. A want
to be used, to be played.
Flesh presses into cool string.
Softly, gently, it draws.
Pluck.
It resonates.
A raindrop in a sea of water.
A ripple.
A hint of what it can be.
Tantalizing. Sweet. Beautiful.
More.
A brush of white hair.
A sweet caress: gliding, pulling.
A wave.
Everything it is and greater.
Infinite. Powerful. Music.
Fingers deftly move,
Breathing life into the silence
Flowers bloom from their tips.
Singing of birds trail in their wake.
Soft white clouds caress.
Devastatingly beautiful.
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My Earliest Memory by Emma Cerra
When thinking back to my earliest memory, I wonder why I remembered it. It’s a really odd memory, hazy to the point where I feel like it cou...

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Her dark eyes are the envy of the warm, brown leaves as they aspire to match her depth and beauty. Her tanned skin, harbors the me...
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When thinking back to my earliest memory, I wonder why I remembered it. It’s a really odd memory, hazy to the point where I feel like it cou...
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So this months blog topic was to write about something important to you, and something that came to mind for me was this game on the phone t...
i <3 jenna and her music
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