White Line.

 

You are music to me.

You are music to me,

A constantly changing song;

And when you move you are a flowing stream

Glistening between tall rocks.

Your walk is pure dance, a quickstep ballet on

                                                  wet pavements.

Your words are as fragile as ocean clouds,

The pulse of calm breath upon my cheek

As night slowly passes.

You are music to me

At one with the music of the spheres

And the flocks of birds in the evening light

Weaving arial patterns that rise and fall.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter, November 5th. 2026.

 

 

 

Fragments of a Magic Garden.

 

From my Note Book.

 

Scraps.

 

Snake hypnotised by the moon at the pink bridge.

 

String Theory.

 

The Heart of the Rose.

 

Flotsam on the surface of my mind..

 

Drifting in Inner space.

 

The Orange Page left open.

 

Pink and yellow mainly.

 

Black Magic, opened and closed secrets.

 

Autumnal Disruptions.

 

Trevor J Potter's Art: Waiting in tne Lonely Shadows..

Trevor J Potter's Art: Waiting in tne Lonely Shadows..: Waiting for something Waiting for a sign - a warning A word A kiss  A hug in the dark A promise of renewal Certainly not goodbye My dreams a...

Samurai.

 

Event. In memory of Ludwig Wittgenstein , who taught me with coloured blocks when I was a child.

 

Web of Colours.

 

Untitled.

 

Butterfly on a hedge of words.