Steven Marzella
In reverie, guitar in hand
Alone, plucking each string by its own
Unable to produce the chords that sing sweetly in our head
And beckon for a melody with words we comprehend
The self-proclaimed poet
Prowess deficient of voice and finger
Sitting at a desk, pen in hand
Latent by the book for which I stand
I wish that the world
Could pause all at once
We would take a deep breath and
Listen for the beat that pumps our hearts
Dig the melody that propels the blood through our veins
Bend from the knees
And just jam

cm51083n
cm51083n
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