Musician

While you played the heavenly song on this piece of reed, I was lost in your song of life. I thought the piece of dead wood to be the source your music, that enchants the world. You paused between the notes. Somewhere in the silence between the notes, I realized that it is your breath that transforms a reed into a flute. It didn't last long. You being ever playful, started the music again. And we start this game of hide and seek again.
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Song

Holding you in my heart, a song came forth for you. The song floated as the spring time scent in the air. Gladding the heart as the swaying flowers in bright sunshine. Cheerful as a mountain stream, they came...the words of my song for you. The tune was set by the nightingales and chorus by the countless chirping birds.
The night carried the song in the scent of jasmine. Delicate as the lightning and deep as the rumble that follows it. ..it looked beautiful.
Now that you are here, I cannot sing it anymore. I stringed and unstringed the instrument to set the tune right. My voice is hoarse and hands shaky. But there are birds, spring time air and the mountain stream still flows. Listen to my song in silence. If in doubt, listen to it through my eyes that linger for a few extra moments before they look away from your eyes.
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I wrote this after reading Rabindranath Tagore's Poem:
http://www.geocities.com/n-halder/pages/tagore/song006.htm?200723