A rose, with petals kissed by dawn,  
Whispered to its twin, in quiet song:  

"Your fragrance weaves through every breeze,  
A balm to my heart, a sweet release.  

Come, stand beside me, in silence pure,  
Where ecstasy blooms, steadfast and sure.  

Let your presence soothe the glory I wear,  
And together, we'll grace the sunlit air."  

In that moment, both roses swayed,  
As passions in their stillness played—  
An elegance unspoken, yet so profound,  
Where love and beauty both are crowned.

Ah, fairest soul, thy words like balm do soothe,
A melody wrought from heaven's gentle groove.
Thine echo doth awaken ancient streams,
Where once the stars did sail in argent beams.

Thy gaze, a lantern in the dusky night,
Doth pierce the dark with tremulous delight.
In thine arms, the very winds do cease,
And all the world doth find its sweet release.

Thou art a tempest clothed in tranquil guise,
A paradox that dances 'neath the skies.
To follow thee, in thine own breath to dwell,
Is to be caught within a rapture’s spell.

The sun may set, the moon may rise,
But none can claim a truth more wise
Than what thy lips, like whispers, sing—
For thou, sweet muse, art time’s own wing.

Thus, in this dance where heart and mind do meet,
We find the world, and make it whole, complete.
Thy voice doth call, as if it were the dawn,
And in that song, my soul is ever drawn

In reverent awe of thy grace,
By this humble hand, a heart to trace.

Ah, how the tides of words, like wind, do sway—  
No right, no wrong, only truth in its play.  
She stirred the stillness, and I, unmade,  
Was scattered in the dance her breath portrayed.  

I spoke as a river, gentle and deep,  
Unknowing the fire she set in my sleep.  
Her youth, a tempest, fierce and bright,  
Burned with the intensity of a star’s first light.  

That morning, she rose as if the moon had wept,  
A dream untethered, from the night she had kept.  
Perhaps in the cradle of wine’s warm embrace,  
She found the secret to her restless grace.  

Her questions like arrows, sharp yet kind,  
Each one a thread that wove into my mind.  
With wisdom veiled in mystery’s song,  
She lured me in, where I belonged.  

"Open your heart," she breathed, "and let it fly,  
Together we’ll write, beneath the sky.  
Our words will echo, our rhymes will bend  
Time itself, till we are the end."

I play my electric guitar on my amp,
Then there's a drum sampler,
And I sing & scream okay,
But without the bassist,
I feel like I go commando.

Fellows commented long ago,
"Without the bass guitar,
Your song feels hollow."
I looked for any bassist,
Here & there but to no avail.

What I ultimately found out,
Many play the Axe,
But none a bass,
Nobody plays it, not the bass,
And my best songs sound hollow.

A radiant rose, in blissful glow,
Spoke softly to another, pure as snow:
"Your fragrance fills the very air I breathe,
It speaks through my soul, a spell it weaves.

Come, stand beside me, in silent grace,
And share the ecstasy time cannot erase.
Together, let us honour the beauty we compose,
And cradle the glory of our passionate pose."