With love I come with a song for you
It’s syncopated by our hearts
The message is keen and pure and true
And longs to make of our bond an art
It’s played by an orchestra of angels
Harping on a lofty lyre
Their heavenly hands can handle
cradle and seize the divine fire
To transcribe from love to life
Must be the purest of notation
Like words and notes are a sculpting knife
I hone a work of pure creation
The muse has been imploring me
And it has not relented
But for having been inspired by you
The music is more augmented
I think if kindred hearts would open
Song would pour out from the rift
Its dulcet tones would lull us home
As we start to dream and drift