All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Writing Music
Writing music,
if I could,
makes me think of you.
The notes,
like fragile stains,
float between the lines.
The lines
remind me of your skin,
smooth and reliable.
The page itself,
holding all of the words
we’ve ever said.
The melody,
sweet and lifted,
with demons creeping beneath.
The rests:
For the moments
that rendered us speechless.
The flats:
For the times
we almost didn’t make it
The sharps:
For the times
we overshot the target.
So many different key changes
filtering what we’ve seen
and where we’ve been.
So many orchestrated clashes
Some we’ve created
And others created themselves
Well rinsed harmonies
hover above us
as your eyes melt into mine.
The soprano,
with her delicate fingers,
touching our faces.
The alto,
with her deep and dwelling,
whispered promises
The tenor,
with his soft ringing bells,
as my hair falls over your shoulder.
The bass,
with his dark ghosts,
settling into our ears.
With each crest and trough
is a new day; a new night,
to spend with you.
A new day
of writing music
That will someday be our masterpiece.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.