In the crowded room
On the floor and in the corner
A VIOLA leans against a wall
Beautiful wood and a little dusty
Like an aging wallflower at the gala
Waiting for someone to notice
Someone who will REVEL in the music
Someone who can unlock the potential
Someone to step forward and see what is hidden
On the floor, below eye LEVEL
Beneath the mirror with the BEVEL edge

Georg’ann

Clay was in my hands, something
solid to hold, mine to SHAPE.

House is QUIET, the kind before
a storm, and a storm is coming.

Old cat has found her way under
the COVER, we’re warm companions.

Illness playing field is not LEVEL.
Heart holds sorrow, is grateful.

Awareness meets a BEVEL,
refracts into prismatic emotion.

Heather