Chuck Johnson
Balsam

Fragrance of sounds.

Dialogues of sounds. Slow melodies approach. They are flowers in a colorful garden.

Sweetness. Swaying sighs hold hands and follow a flowery meadow...

Smiles, fragrances. Waves of sounds that touch your heart. A heart that believes it is hard, but in the end it becomes tender in front of melodies that live only from sighs.

Sighs like a newborn in arms, looks at you, wants to speak, but has a cliff in front of its small life.

In front of a cliff, the winds move following the waves of music that they hear only in my heart a beat and a music that lives from thoughts that embrace

Only movements, only music.

I would like to kiss you.