White and black.
Just like the colors of my favorite photo.
His fingers glide across them like a child skating on an ice rink.
The sound of his gliding, is equivalent to my heartbeat.
It starts slow, and quickly speeds.
With each note, I gasp for air.
I do not know the song he is playing,
Nor do I wish to know.
But whatever song it is,
I could sing to for eternity.
Before this man sat down, I did not know the depths of his soul,
But now I see him as a man with quintessence.
He plays the song that is me.
He is my melody.
He is my beat…
For he knows what song my heart sings.
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