Before you, overtures accumulate
In the ragtag troupe of anywhere’s sound.
I wait for you, and eager things around
Tune to harmony. They anticipate
Your supple gait, rhythm you orchestrate.
Then, moving, you draw gold curves that abound,
Dance in thoughtful breath! See smile-light rebound!
And coax from noise music, all yours, innate.

But leave and, after you, wildness remains
You cannot witness. Sound is relentless
And will seek your song yet, by chance, recall
Mere bits of your effusive, true refrains,
Which played will perk my ear and I’ll quiesce;
Might it be you? No? I hear sound in thrall.