pattern events

I cannot explain

unless I compare it all to sound

because our holding

hands while I give you time

is a litany of volcanic hymn

while the flavor of our

just letting the river of darkness

take over our car is

a beat shaking the speakers and

laying down with you for a nap

is the glazed golden voices of a

choir that grasps your mind

yet the best is when you

open up and tell me how you

feel and think

like chimes and piano as snow falls

sounds like a classical start

of a song that enlightens

like the gates of heaven widening up

and a most holy

train of notes

arrive like kisses


About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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