Syncopation

A duet.

Where notations meet words,

Instruments meet a voice.

Where the strings meet a pen,

And where a melody meets a rhyme.

That is where I meet you.

I was just a scribble and you, an unfinished piece.

We started Grave, a sort of free verse.

Moving into Adagio,

Dsylexia turning into a Hyperlexia.

A hypnotic incantation.

We further moved to an andante, with something much more than just language.

With every swish of the baton, we frolicked in unison,

Something  even a spoken word can’t manage.

We never even realised  how we moved into allegro,

With words dancing along about the cadence.

I am legible and you are much more finished.

Echoes seemed to have found a source and Anagrams have been unpuzzled.

It is a Syncopated Metamorphism.

A minuet that never ceases,

With dancing, incessant.

Entwined in the movements (moments) of expressions and observations.

We are magic.

Otherworldly, maybe.

We are Fortissimo.

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