She sings in my heart…

A song that I love, backed by a jazz band…

In 3/4 time her voice syncopates in the spaces of silence of my heart palpitations…

I relax…

Free from the labor of having to use my imagination… for she’s painting images with her words… not mine…

But I cannot help my mind wanting to unwind the twine packaged box of my favorite things…

Who needs a drink when her voice of mid tones and falsettos are remnant of the sweetest of sparkling Italian wines…

I’ve dropped my coat on the floor, keys are still in the door…

I just got home… But she’s taking me even even further…

Sing it Sarah…