With open eyes,

Freezing the time
Into feelings of gold.
I see music,
Pearly teardrops,
Stirring up inside
Restless words,
And pictures alive.
I sing sculptures,
Molding the space
Into translucent shapes,
With starry eyes,
And silhouetting arms.
I hold brushes of colors,
Blossomed into shapes,
I hold constellations of words,
Melted,
Danced into notes.
© Copyright 2011 Cristina Miller.
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