i hear the sound of a beautiful love
ringing past nine on your fingertips
soft echoes in the loaded, overflowing,
clicking, tapping, restless bedroom
of notes and rhymes drafted from a dreamer's eyes;

through smiles, so eloquent and hardly hid
frankly spoken in tender bursts of tears
not pain, but laughter that grows and stretches
to reach the closest,
deepest parts of your bones