the unwritten song

the unwritten song
the unwritten song

A melody somewhere
drifting carelessly towards the setting sun
leaving behind her abode in the bow and strings
where the violinist had tucked her away, forgotten

Where then are the verses, I ask
All the stories are yet to be spun
for the love, she says,
is frozen in the poet’s anguished heart

I dive into the stream and hold her hand
and I think she will take me to faraway suns
I know not how to swim, but I drift along
I only know together we have become a song