Music
David and Solomon;
Their sonnets are a song.
Songs that come from your lips,
Spill like the lit night’s light.
The rose wraps the bud like
A robe. I wrote it down.
A script marked in strong stone;
Once a stone in the storm.
The whining of the wind
Played the whim of my words.
This show drops its curtain
Like a shawl that falls short.
This music hits my heart
Like hot running water.
The Psalms sing the many
Songs I wish I could write.
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