Muscle in movement to music
as cords are cut from corpse,
‘I was born in blue,’ he said,
‘tender twisting into tune,
I am rags rendered into rich,
suffering surrendering to the song.’
‘I was born in blue,’ he said
And his guitar the guts
through which he bled.
All words by Damien B. Donnelly
Based on a poetry prompt from @Poetry Portrait
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Damien B. Donnelly 
A fabulous piece, Damien; art & verse perfectly matched . . .
Thank you so much Peter! I was send the art this time but managed to hear the words. I hope you are well, greetings from a rather hot Paris
I thought Paris was always HOT!
Tempers certainly rise a lot here!! 😳😂
Oh how we bleed the colors of our souls. Beautiful, my friend ❤️
Thank you so much Dorinda! Happy weekend. Xx
Thanks, Damien, it was a very happy one 🙂 Hope yours was, too!