the melody

on a little branch they mate.
wind blows and sings a little too late.
crunchy yet very soothing.

for this to reach the bridge,
he must do the verse
while she creates the chorus.
flat, sharp and major.

period.
for he who knows no rhyme,
and she who knows no string.

but who knows,
if the violin may sing to the beauty,
or the piano may scream in lovely
rhymes of mate.

solitary.
perfectly tuned.
rage in beauty.
lay in agony.

simply too good to be true.
a storm is coming.
still too good to be true.
i can see them flying.

seperated.
final period.

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