"darling, please,"
you say with a smile on your face
I press my lips together cutting the
song off in the middle
your deep velvet laugh falls out
through your lips
& I blush even though my skin
is the color of mocha;

my voice is music to your ears
you say, just not when I sing
I giggle my stupid little girl laugh,
so ugly compared to yours
taking a sharpie we sit in the grass
& I wait patiently as you draw music
notes on my lips

as twilight comes you soon have
music notes on your lips and face too,
except where as I'm the broken record,
you're the handsome musician serenading
me with songs and songs of grassy winters
and snowy summers.

as long as I'm next to you, I
I could be your broken record forever.