an ode in the old style

listen to it now    ‘tis singing
through these days of silent stone
this flesh of mine doth sing
a counterpoint of words and kisses
an intimate song filled with shouts
and of hips the merry motion
thou hast transformed my body
into a guitar that rageth
for thy matchless strumming
into a trumpet that liveth only
whilst thou give it breath
this soul of mine doth now sound out
serenades of sighs for thy gracefulness
toccatas of discerning thine exquisiteness
thou hast turned my spirit into
a drum which awaiteth thy pleasant thumping
into a cymbal that ringeth out
when thou dost touch it    oh my lovely one
listen to it    listen to this concert
of my soul with my every sense
this symphony of the whole of me
doth be wholly because of thee

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll  2014

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