A note never struck...a chord never found...a karma

You are
Dear
Like a chord never found
And bound
me still
By You
Finds
Lines
On pages
Scribbling all the time
As if made a vow
To scribble you
All the way...

You are
Dear
Like a note unfathomed
Still anchored me boat
Finds thirst in your throat
Filling me
To feel how the evening
Transcend to a scene of the limitless
As if improbability
A possibility...

Like getting younger
Retrogressive
A move,
And older
Like George...
A black n white half lit cover
Of an album...

You are
Dear
Like a saxophone played on,
In every possible tense,
Past perfect
Present luminous continuous...

And
The evening
Can never be
More Holy...
As if karma...