Sound Prints in the Sand

The hue of streets; cousins of chalkboards;
the distinct voice of transition; of forbidden love
sipped through straws of anticipation;
swallowing decadent tribulations
to nourish picturesque gardens
and English dreams; the line between
appreciation and alienation
Happens to be the blemish
of today's death; headline hopscotch
founding father of premeditation
Sound prints in the sand

Sound Wave

In the incandescence of this empyrean nocturnal rhapsody

A remarkably rare yet, aureate creature appeared before me

From nightfall until daybreak she smoothly crooned an infinite array

Of enamorous symphonies to which I naturally could not abstain

A subtle spark of ardency was cast upon my sauntering pneuma

Inundating me into a catalepsy of which I zestfully fancied

Her charisma suckered me in with ease, illuminating my euphoria

Masquerading my pervasive mourning, cauterizing it to ashes

Each lyric alleviates the suffering that I have so hazardously acquired

Every note speaks to me in a language unknown to the community

The tasteful euphonies that perspire, carefully assuage my heart

I raised not a finger nor did I enunciate a single word or syllable

Her musical prowess completely squandered me with passion

Jauntily I danced to the cadence of the beat scouring my veins

Ceaselessly I could bathe in the essence of her bubbling sound waves

Never shall this finely crafted music pause, It shall remain on replay