At every appropriate moment I exhale,
Pausing first,
Displaying the proper amount of bedroom decorum.

I hesitate,
And see if you have taken the first gasp which,
Like a catalyst,
Triggers the next release.

Inside the metronome is busy,
Keeping time so quickly
That the noise sounds continual.

I'm holding my breath
And waiting,
Listening to the faint sounds created
When fingertips hover over bare skin.
That almost indiscernible noise,
Reminiscent of the gentlest push towards land
Made by ocean water.

I purposely bring myself in tune with you,
Then space out the noise. All that is heard
Is the perfection of intermittence.

I slow it down again, playing at half speed.
When inhaled, he fills the most crucial of instruments.