Come find me under tiger striped skies.
I’ll be the one sitting in front of a piano painted
a shade of faded limes with yellowed keys;
I’ll be the one who finally learned how to read notes
just as well as words.
Between compositions, I’ll wait for you.
I’ll run my fingers through these tall grasses
that live to freely dance against golden sunsets—
that never bury themselves behind unreachable horizons.
I’ll count each blade as a stroke of bewilderment
induced by a world who can’t accept that it is,
in fact, part of something so much bigger than itself.
Come find me, and I’ll teach you
how to speak the music that can be touched—
the music that dances on the tongue—
the music that will make you love again.