I hear your notes of solid green.
Purple hues which writhe and teem,
on currents held within your ears.
No finite laughter, or subtle tears.

Strings quiver from your every touch.
Fingers dance in measured time.
Silently, both embraced and clutched.
Enticed with trances so divine.

Azure tints spit from the wood.
Taking stock of where we stood.
Speaking of love, lost then found.
Unaware of its resound.
I hear the tales of gloom and woe.
It's infectious touch.
With venom it's sowed .

I fear the end as tempo ebbs.
Advising sounds to take their place.
But softly you contort and blend.
Never losing tempo's pace.