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Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Instrument of Mine

I will play on your body as if it was a Steinway
My fingers to run over the ivory of your skin,
My hands will hold you in delicate grace
As you are the bass on which I will make great accompaniment
To the soft drumming I will have, rhythmic, resonating, deep
I will caress you not as a lover,
But as my muse, my instrument,
My Stradivarius gifted to me from some far off patron,
As I touch the voice that is your skin,I will pray that I can complement it,
my hands to pluck your violin.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You get mints in hell? Cool beans :) Cool poem man!

Dinubus Enok