I like to hear you tell me that the world is music whose notes we share.
Those who resonate with grace and delight.
The ones that pierce with rage and fright.
And finally, those who utter the cry of abandonment and pain.
There are also memories and promises.
I like to hear you talk about the quintessence of love.
So I follow you, here and there.
Our walk begins through the seasons. Our senses no longer betray us and we no longer lie.