His Trumpet

Every note that shoots out of that bell
Every sound he emits out of that brass
Makes my soul soar, high and higher.

His music
Is a spotlight
On darkest corners of my heart.

He is a magician,
Who turns ordinary air
Into something so extraordinary.

His music
Sets me free,
His music
Holds my mind hostage.

And when he hits
The highest possible note,
It's like fireworks,
It makes me feel
Like I'm riding on a shooting star,
To the edges of the universe unexplored.

Captured. Captivated. Allured. Entranced.
I'm possessed.

Of course, dedicated to Mr. Chris Botti. <3 br="br">

Haunted

It's already been a year.
Yet your image still haunts me.
The memories of you still stalk me.

The lovers holding hands,
looking at the setting sun,
knowing that at least for another day,
that their love will live.
I look at the setting sun,
and know that our love has already died,
died out before the sun.

In the end, I can sing every single song,
I heard on the radio
The songs we used to dance to,
now metamorphized
into the saddest songs I have ever heard.

And I cry.

Elements of Life

I am like fluid,
trickling down some cold surface.
I am riding on the sound waves
that's traveling to your ears.
I am composed of love,
and in turn, I am to love.
I am as lonely,
as the leaf that fell by itself in spring.
I am like the crescent moon,
my lips can curl into the same smile.
I am as the sad as the saddest love song,
each word in the lyric pierce through hearts.
I am as warm,
as the ray of sunshine I'm bathed in.
And I am as alive,
as the next entity in this world.
We all find traces of each other,
in each other.

When the Wind Blows

Moving lights
Captured my attention
I looked towards
The flickering
Imprinted on the ground
I lifted my sight to the window
And watched the leaves
Waving back and forth
In the wind.