Making Music
I'm finished singing to the air,
Where winds blow memories away;
Where phantom feelings fall and dry,
Like tears from a forgotten rain
So let me use my hands instead,
To gently pluck your sweetest notes;
To cradle and caress with care,
Your body and your soul laid bare
I want to hear your secret sounds,
And taste the passion on your tongue;
To see soft music in your eyes,
And feel crescendos of your love
I'm finished playing for myself,
The pretty chords that fade with time;
I want your warm and loving heart
Forever fused with mine.
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