Music, in our memory.

As we lay, hands clasped

And hearts telling a story.

We found unknown

To ourselves and memory

That this music

Would lead to that kiss.

Finding all sense of memory

In the kiss

It is all there, Our story

Told but unknown

Capital to our sense of music

Where beats are clasped.

Maybe it didn’t sound like music

When you first found the story

Amongst the pages clasped

Together by ideas, memory

Where only the unknown

Knew to look and kiss.

The idea of your memory

In the kiss

Warm, real, my music

Is reborn even as unknown

As it is. My story

Will be found and clasped.

Even within the secrets of music

I could not hide my story

Hard as I tried in memory

To keep it clasped

In my thought unknown

To your lips, your kiss.

Its out now, the story

Death was far as you clasped

my hand in yours and kiss

me once again. unknown

to others is our memory

of the beat of our music.

Indeed time stands no chance in the story

Where our kiss took place. Clasped in our memory

Forever to be music unknown.

Image by: Boipelo Seswane (2009)
Model: Boipelo Seswane