We finally able to play our song,
To sing out and share our excitement.
But before our first notes,
We go out of tune.
Playing sour chords, blaming each other.
We drag on playing different songs.
In perfect discourse.
Not embarrassed for for our lack of listening,
But distraught of our dissonance.
Disbelief will soon die and we shall see some sort of saving,
But not in each other.
We lay upon our fret boards, modulating often.
Changing key to adjust to the counter,
Yet never making harmony.