By: Amoureax Amant
If you were flutist fluted on mountain,
and I was flute fluted in heavy rain,
to whom you fluted out rainbow in sky,
with rain's weeping in mist hid butterfly.
If you were cellist performed in the dark,
and I was cello whispered in the park,
to whom you played out dawn fog hid sorrow,
with frog's chanting in chestnut tree shadow.
If you were guitarist played on the street,
and I was guitar murmured on leaves sheet,
to whom you played out slow-westering sun,
with leaves sighing along autumn blue tone.
If you were pianist played in moonbeam,
and I was piano crooned along stream.