Can you hear the wood
golden strings
singing within
same story
different guitar
you touch it like magic
fingers made for this
bringing us other places
we haven’t seen before
locked up in our bubble
for far too long
what does the world look
like outside these known walls?
Easy to forget what was
has it ever even really been
losing your voice and memories
of us together
dancing under leaves
raindrops on your lashes
take me with you
or even better
don’t go away
Sweet memories of Sundays at Carysfort Street, where friends lived and gathered to play music, sing, paint, cook, drink chai, talk about life. A home filled with love, one of my favourite places in New Zealand and moments I cherish dearly.
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