The world of song is like a gentle stroke of a paint brush on a canvas creating what ever beautiful creation you desire.  

I awaken you from your slumber,

as I slide you out of your safe, velvet bed.

I ask you to help me play the tunes

that dance around in my head.

I taste the sweet cleanser that resides on your reed,

as I dampen it, 

he wouldn’t meet her eyes

when he told her that he met someone,

suggesting they take a break to figure themselves out.

“but I love you,” she said over the lump in her throat,

eyes burning with unshed tears.

“there’s nothing for me to figure out.”

my laughter quieted 

when she looked at me.

there hasn't been anyone else in the world

who makes me as still as she does,

because her eyes sparkle even when

she's frowning,

and she I know she can see