Veiled in Vellum

a love song that will make me cry
while little bass blossoms slide like fingers naming
mandible
maxilla
clavicle,
a bright rose of a palm hold little lines
that read clear and long
of weathered "i miss yous"
fossils of sharing 88 keys in a fall practice room
a stained smell of fresh tobacco and graphite,
calloused in just the right way.
the clicks of time are faster than what your heart can keep up with
coffee and porches and traffic out a second story stained glass window
a bench by the river where you cried,
a gas station, saying goodbye.
now i just listen with older ears, over and over
hoping but knowing i'll never catch up,
as slow a swaying lullaby it is.