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Composition

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Give me your hands
You have such beautiful hands
Musician's hands
Here, let me show you

A treble clef here
A bass clef just there
A staff wrapping around your wrist
A whole note on each fingertip
Because they're bigger than mine
See? Mine are only eighth notes

Running trills dancing up your arm
Grace notes across one shoulder
Wait, don't move! I'm not done tracing yet

An arpeggio circling your face
A long crescendo leading
To two deep, infinite fermatas
Don't blink! I might miss something

Your nose is even musical, I think
A hesitant but deliberate tenuto
A shocking contrast to the sonata of your face
Do you feel it?

But the tenuto is only a bridge
To an intricate tangle of music
The more I look, the more I see
Don't speak--I want to trace this rose-colored symphony

No, my hand isn't shaking
Yours is so warm
I want to trace that symphony...
But look, our clefs match up

No, mine's not a symphony
Mine is like an infant plunking away at a piano
Just listen

What? Of course you can trace it
But how?
Your hands are caught up, same as mine...
Please, don't let me go--

Oh!
What's the word for two symphonies crashing together?
I'm sure there's a word
But I can't think through the glorious music
Careening through me
Listen to us sing



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