Sometimes the beat is slow, like blues And it pulls at my heart Stretching it Wider and wider Till it feels it will break Like the New Orleans Dam
And sometimes it’s fast like jazz Fluttering my heart and my feet Moving me in such a way that feels disorganized but really, it’s just too complex for the mind to follow, given its nature.
And occasionally There is a slow, peaceful hymn A solo harp That simply and purely sings us both into a sleep-like state
All these songs play in my ear For you, depending on the day Or the hour Or the moment Or the look in your eye Or the tone in your voice
And given the hymn, I am drawn to weep, or dance, or sleep
But frozen in space I wait, intently watching your face For some subtle indication That you hear it too…