Strung Up

Glancing your way for the tenth time during this rehearsal,

I wish I was your cello,

Nestled between your legs.

How beautiful our music would be together!

*

Drat, I've lost my count again.

I hope the first flautist knows when to come in.

Oh well - more time to study you.

*

You perform with passion,

Your body swaying with the flow of the phrases.

When you know a passage by heart

And really feel it, you close your eyes.

I wish I could deliver such ecstasy to you.

I imagine our love-making peaking at a crescendo,

You singing my name...

*

Oops, I missed a measure.

Good thing the conductor is focused on the violins.

Best to avoid more mistakes.

*

I put extra labor into my playing,

Hoping you will hear my efforts

And know they are for you.

Do you ever glance my way when I am focused

and you're counting rests?

Do you fantasize about what a great love

We could share?

I certainly have...

Since I first saw you carrying your cello

Into the rehearsal hall.

*

Another long rest.

You catch me staring.

This time, I sheepishly grin rather than looking away.

Was that a wink?

Be still my racing heart!

I see the gesture as an invitation.

I will force myself to be brave and ask your name.

Please,

Share with me the depth of love you invest in your music.