Crescendo Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

Up and down, in and out,
the sound of music flits about.
Pulsing, aching, needs and desires.
Heat and flame of blazing fires.

Soft and mellow, spiraling low,
unbroken strain of music's flow.
Whistling winds in heaven above
between two hills, the peaks of love.

Hard and driving, ascending grand,
love-notes coming from your hand.
The bow of bodies together strung,
the sweetest notes of love unsung.

Lightning bolts and thunder crashes.
Each pulse and rhythm gently clashes.
The cry of triumph fills the night.
Stars of heaven glimmer bright.

The music is over, its climbing beat.
The memory remains and lingers sweet.