Transform

Hear,
Touch, taste,
See and even smell.

To know your music so well.
Hearing every note before it’ played.
While rubbing your hands across the
Paper, my music lays.

The taste of the air between every Breathe.
And smelling the happiness of your scent
As you float on top of every note,
High above, where ever a G natural takes you,

To a place where there’s no such thing as
the color blue.

I am creating the imagery of love,
The personification of my poem
in love,

As this poem was once a poem,
I add my final touch,
A melody, and it’s sung.
It’s my music, I’m so in love.

By Roslyn Sipp
Inspired by perhaps the world ends here, By Joy Harjo. Ode