As Jerome played the violin,
she hung there
suspended
between the light in his
eyes and
the veins in his hands.

She,
intent on the melody
only saw what a
lover sees, only
heard the sweet whisper of
love in the air
and
Jerome
played on unaware
that
Lucinda
was hanging there
and
his hands wove the thread
that kept her suspended.

I have a feeling that Lucinda
depended on
that.