There’s a Song

There’s a song in my head
Coming out on repeat
Sneaking under my bed
And out there, in the streets.

There’s no word to this song,
No melody to hear,
It just sits on my tongue
Or right behind the ears.

It feels like a fabric
Being sewn by the left
Ventricle and the right
Atrium without scheme.

It feels like a samba,
A salsa, a tango,
Or maybe a rumba
Played on a piano.

It feeds on the passions
That so easily grow;
With no hesitation
In a bite, makes it go.

When it’s fuel is eaten
Harmony dismantles,
Finally the song stops.



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