Digital manipulation of an old book cover by Mun
From the collar bones down
Dressed in jet black
With skin pale as the flesh of a
Freshly-peeled peach
A haunting air accompanied, his
Inaudible presence
While soft night curls brushed
Against his slightly slumped shoulders
Haunting, but never daunting
Though he had it all
Never once did he flaunt
His humility was his best trait
That, she never forgot
To speak of a Gibson and an Ibanez,
And how much the dissimilarity mattered,
Even if she could not see;
He spoke of the Galaxy,
And how to capture its
Pulsating
Personality,
As his eyes did see
Though limited to you or to me
He could translate its precise amount of
Beauty
And ultimately;
Of ways to find God
When all she could think of
Was getting from Y to Z
She found comfort in this
He found comfort in bliss
For all things made him grateful
More than most, the joy of others
Most of most, the smile of his mother
At fifteen he filled her with admiration
Not affection but pure admiration
How could one be so silent?
Yet have the world in one’s hands?
Bright yet haunting
Though he did not daunt
A musician, a humanitarian,
An ambassador of the arts
He filled voids in
The smallest of hearts
When a smile broke on his gentle face
As he looked right through her
She knew she felt nothing
Except pure admiration
And literal space
For at that moment,
As it was before
There can never
Be anything more
Mun writes, makes art and teaches it to kids as young as three. Occasionally, she works on small-scale renovation projects and is (supposedly) an architect-to-be but how often does one end up as what one is ‘supposed to be’? So for now, Mun writes, makes art and teaches it to kids as young as three. She designs buildings, among other things (occasionally).
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Tags: MunWe accept short stories, poems, opinion pieces, and essays on a complimentary basis.
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