The Loft
Sun rays beam
funky sounds of music
being played and made
fill both up and down stairs
I wondered for months
how it would feel to be
that string, key, and note
You connect with music
the way two people fall in love
Lately it seems
your favorite instrument has changed
from woodwinds to brown skin
Strumming me gently
Humming me in perfect pitch
Placing your fingertips with such precision
Striking all my chords
Breathing me with fluidity
We chill and listen to some tracks
Our arguments, the riffs
Our conversations, the verses
Our laughter, the choruses
Our lovemaking, the crescendos
We, counterpoints
Us, the score
