Heart-String Bard

I'm a heart-string bard with a guilty bow
fiddling all night in concerto solo
beggar me with stories and I'll break into song -
tonight, regret memories - please, sing along
rainy percussion beating its drums
the man by the bar, tromb-moans on and on
and I'm just a blind-bat muse, facing the music
and when the dawn comes, I'll leave this world to it
chime in with the  flute 'til we lose track of time,
love trills and my lute, this night is yours, and mine



I went to a very lovely wedding today. I only knew the groom, and I hadn't even seen him for almost nine years. When I first received the invitation, I wondered if the groom was hoping for a high-school showing, and I was interested to see if anyone from that era of my life might show up. None did (save one: a groomsman).
The theme was fireflies, and several lines of bare-bulbs were strung over the aisle, and at the front, a crystalline "chandelier" blinked with lights like lightning bugs behind glass. Curtains hung on either side over which dim blue lights shone, and above the strung lightbulbs were the venue's original lights which looked like upside-down bells with metallic rose-thorns circling around the outside. The venue was held in a building constructed of distressed wood to grant a barn-countryside appeal, despite its location in south-downtown seattle.
At the venue, I realized how much I wish I wasn't terrible with colors. I'm a concrete sequential thinker with a miserable lack of observational ability. If all of my friends walked into the room, one-by-one, and said hello to me and asked me about me day etc, and then left. And someone else subsequently came in and asked me what each one was wearing, I suspect I'd have a less than 1/20 success rate. I don't think in colors, I don't describe very well in color. When describing a scene, I'm more apt to define it in terms of movement.
Seeing motion comes naturally to anyone with athletic background: a ball is flying at my head, so I should duck; someone is passing me the soccer ball, so trap it, and so on. But what hue of green was the grass, what flavor blue the sky, and that yellow-bellied goldfinch - your beautiful color haunts my dreams. I just want to notice you; teach me to notice you.