I’d love to be an instrument
so you would fall in love with me
and take me everywhere you go
to play your favorite melodies.
 
If I could nestle in your arms
your heart and mind I’d surely win
as you would bow or pick or pluck
on me, your happy violin.
 
I’d love to be your instrument
to feel your passion, watch you grow,
enjoy your fingers tickling me.
How sweet to be your piano.
 
I dream about a horn of brass
sensuous lips on me each night
hands polishing my lovely bell —
a bass trombone would be just right.
 
Or, maybe fame we two could share,
Our names in lights. Famous rock stars!
As you would nightly pluck my strings
I’d delight crowds as your guitar.
 
I’d love to be your clarinet —
the sounds we’d make — oh so sublime.
Poets would swoon and grab their pens
and put our gorgeous notes to rhyme.

Percussion, brass, woodwinds or strings,
it matters not at all to me.
Your devotion is what I crave.
I want your heart my own to be.


© by Nanci Lee Woody.
Used with the author’s permission.