The music we made was so
bassoon and concertina
both bold Americana and
old school continental.
You have my word.
I’ll meet you where the
pale blue meets the deep green
starting here and now and
ratcheting up to transcendental.
You have my word.
Meet you at the corner of
crimson and tangerine
I will be the robin’s breast
and you will sing sentimentally.
Do I have your word?
When we meet again it will
be familiar and serene
like the beach on an unsettled
morning only more gentle.
You have my word.
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