The fragrance

of lavender soap envelops me

like the song’s lyrics.


Wherever I travel I carry

songs with me, lost for the moment

in the Appalachian hills


as I walk through a gate

at San Francisco International,


as I walk past the lobby’s guard

and then up the elevator

to a cubicle on the third floor.


All day I walk in and out

of woods carrying the songs

of owls and bluegrass.


They are as close to me as the scent

of lavender in a shower.

“Art is useless,” a co-worker says.

“Give me a bridge, something



Defiant I stride away humming,

waving an air baton.

A 100 piece orchestra

brazenly joins in

as I walk down

to HR.


by Bob Bradshaw


Bob is a huge admirer of the Rolling Stones. Mick may not be gathering moss, but Bob is. He hopes to retire soon to a hammock. Bob’s work has appeared in Stirring, Pedestal, Mississippi Review and many other publications.

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