The Song Bends to You

At night I’d cradle you like an upright bass:

too tall for me to play the lowest notes on.

You know how to sing just as sweet in a cello’s

tone. And you’re wound tight in places, but

your tuning pegs get loose when it’s cold.

You still sound good to me. Somehow you are

never are out of tune, or maybe the song

just bends to you, like I would. If only I could

once cradle you, like a sleeping bass, and

sing a ballad, a standard to you. With you.

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