We met in a Bar, I was drinking measures after measure.
I over heard your accent.
I plucked up the courage and
You plucked all the right heart strings,
Made a beautiful chord sing.
It made me leave notes for you all over our house. Covering the fridge door.
Harmony flowing down the stairs when the doorbell rings,
I know it’s you, I know your tune.
I could play every strum.
My Kick drum beating out of rhythm as I get closer to the door.
You throw your ivory keys in the bowl.
I’m your musical instrument
So Conduct me;
Orchestrate symphony’s of me.
Alone, yes we work, but together we are an ensemble. Complete.
Yes we have our minors and major key moment but
When the notes meet each other it is perfection.
When are we clash, it’s only for a second, honest.
We are every note in a libreto that doesn’t work alone, but together we are a melody.
An adagio, a jazz quartet, Requiem, 16 piece orchestra.
We need our solo moments at times. But when you are ready, you sing to me with your voice gentle as a piano, pianissimo.
Every crotchet, and minim with you is endless; time stands still.
You know how to fine tune me.
You’re an arpeggio, each note plucked individually doesn’t sound broken. But tells a story for the whole chord.
I want you to play with my notes. Make the harmonic tension build to a resolution. My tempo increases. Strong intense, forte. We build in a Crescendo.
No moment is flat.
Sing my scale individually to work out what every detail sounds like.
So you can see why whole I am the way I sound.
You are an endless symphony.
Breathe me in, prepare, ready to sing.
We met in a bar, and we sung our solos into a duet.
By Matt Concannon
The Thirsty Poet