…hand strums old nylon strings…soft reverberation…rhythm of silence embraces the air leaving my lungs…breathing…always breathing…it was always the breathing…and then there was the beating of my heart…rhythm of silence…beating wings of life…silence seeps in through all the openings…silence seeps in some more…there is no rush… blood adheres to the wisdom of my heart…life slows down some more… hand strums old nylon strings…a strum …strum …strum …strum …evening…moon, behind leaves…evening…so beautifully heavy, my heart…there is no rush…light softens up…darkness dabs at my skin and I sigh…tender grains of the evening embrace my sigh…the world is brittle…I feel it crumbling around me…crumbling and spreading…beautiful…
Story Of The Footloose 
What a deep rich beauty you have about you Prashant…you, your thoughts, and words leave me thankful, hopeful and feeling as if I am tender…as if I am such a sigh 🙂 ❤ truly…
The beauty that you experience is yours… Thank you Maureen.
you have a way of bringing it out in me…the pleasure is all mine dear Prashant ❤
You have shaped it sooo beautifully !!!
Thank you Varchswata. It shaped itself though… the evening…
“beating wings on life” is a lovely image as you have captured it among your words.
always glad to get your post-extra glad your evening was beautiful for you
angel in the dust
extra extra glad that it reached you. Thank you dear angel in the dust. 🙂
me too
I appreciate the liberal use of ellipses, it gives the poem a certain distinguishing flow.
Thank you. Cheers to flow!