The romance of music |
Give me your hands You have such beautiful hands Musician's hands Here, let me show you A treble clef here A bass clef just there A staff wrapping around your wrist A whole note on each fingertip Because they're bigger than mine See? Mine are only eighth notes Running trills dancing up your arm Grace notes across one shoulder Wait, don't move! I'm not done tracing yet An arpeggio circling your face A long crescendo leading To two deep, infinite fermatas Don't blink! I might miss something Your nose is even musical, I think A hesitant but deliberate tenuto A shocking contrast to the sonata of your face Do you feel it? But the tenuto is only a bridge To an intricate tangle of music The more I look, the more I see Don't speak--I want to trace this rose-colored symphony No, my hand isn't shaking Yours is so warm I want to trace that symphony... But look, our clefs match up No, mine's not a symphony Mine is like an infant plunking away at a piano Just listen What? Of course you can trace it But how? Your hands are caught up, same as mine... Please, don't let me go-- Oh! What's the word for two symphonies crashing together? I'm sure there's a word But I can't think through the glorious music Careening through me Listen to us sing |