Notes, melodiously rising, dancing amongst themselves
Desires all, born of exposed soul, a plaything’s music box
Daylife, mundane, charmed beguiling life. Perfumed with
Updrafts of color, wispy love, need so frightened you only
Could be certain — this wasn’t sufficient for your breath flying
Disturbing selfish needs you love to have as possessions.
And your soft breath ensnares notes of your plaything’s soul,
Lost wishes, desires forsook, remembered only by my soul’s
Endlessly spun song, music it makes for you.
Smug, soft laughter or a blushing smile. Take them as
Impetus for any action. Neither right nor wrong
Hold meaning. It is yours, your music my soul makes,
It will elicit a reaction, a gift for you.
