Her lips to music are wed

Her lips to music are wed
What know I?
Mere artificer
I am nothing more than a stage set builder
(actors tend to see us as part of the furniture)

Says she
“Music is the most worthy muse
though in Truth she is the least restful.”

I would dance with her
In the cathedrals of the Forrest
But never will I be the one
That truly touches her

It is her passion for golden liquid fire
Of the perfect C-major chord
That runs the myriad rivers
Under her skin

It is the music
Always the music
and never me

All who love are cursed
Those who love actors
Doubly so

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

One thought on “Her lips to music are wed”

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