"My Lover is Music"
Your eyes, bright as trumpets in the symphony of your being,
Call me to attention beyond the faculty of seeing,
And I hear you, hear the music of your soul
Envelop me as harmony to make our phrases whole.
The viola de gamba is your voice addressing me
In the elegant rhythms of Baroque tonality,
The contour of your face is the smooth French horn,
Your nose is an oboe and your jaw a trombone;
The woodwinds of your hair are as intertwined as Bach
With a solo flute piping from each stray lock;
Your fingertips are lute strings, sure and sweet,
Accompanied by the percussion of your legs and feet.
You are my orchestra, let my body be your score;
Play me soft and gentle, crescendo to a roar,
And in the final cadence, draw me past your knees
To the transcendental silence where music always leads.
