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.