sometimes when i look at you,
i hear you as a song.
the song that traps and haunts me,
when it is for you i long.

i hear you in each instrument,
you are the upright bass.
the jazzy riffs of saxophones
paint for me your face.

you are the wild, subtle drums,
the cello and the chimes.
you are the twinkling, dancing harp,
whose timbre simply shines.

i hear you in each symbol crash
and every kick drum beat.
you are the candied flutes,
with notes so sickly sweet.

and the more and more i listen,
the more i feel you here,
i can hold your hand in mine—
tremulous, pure, sincere.

but the longer we are kept apart,
the fainter your theme seems,
until the only place i hear it
is amongst my dusty dreams.