Blue lights filtering down upon musicians of the
"Cold Front" band, allowing songs to lead every-
one into moments of tomorrow's future.
As everything unfolds and puts itself away in
drawers of make-believe for the night at least,
to keep them safe and remembered.
Creating and producing many secrets that haven't
been shared ever before, just waiting for another
day to begin and end in styles of prose the way
they were meant to be all along.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem