Your guitar is strumming upon my heart
And your words are singing themselves right into my soul.
And I'm finding I'm made of nothing but your song.
Nothing but the notes that pour from your fingers
And the letters that live on your lips.
So I wander through this life
Until my inner self finds those familiar melodies
Calling its name.
And while the song may change
And I have no way of knowing,
When you play,
All that I am and ever should be,
Fills me completely.
No comments:
Post a Comment