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Wednesday, 14 May 2014

The master's fingers

The master's fingers ran
He didn't see us
He didn't see anyone
He melted with his guitar

He and his guitar were one
As a stem and petals
As a book and words
As a face and wrinkles

His notes beat exactly
As knocked his heart
As ran our blood
As our feet clapped

We will build a monument
To him and to his guitar
In a desert if needed
Because his flamenco
Our souls heated

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