foolish.
I had a poem in my head the minute before I sunk into a late afternoon nap. I thought, I need to roll over and write this down. I was too far gone.
So the only beautiful thing I've given the world today (I guess) would be the snippets of solo in the first measures of the fourth piece my orchestra performed tonight. But I think I was spun cotton, not spun silk. Trust me, I'd heard enough to compare.
No comments:
Post a Comment