I am in your bed, sitting beside you as I hear you typing.
Each key, a masterpiece being written,
soothing my restlessness —
urging to know what you are composing.
...
At night,
when silence echoes—
when all is dark and the summer sky is filled
with stars,
...
Picasso
I am in your bed, sitting beside you as I hear you typing.
Each key, a masterpiece being written,
soothing my restlessness —
urging to know what you are composing.
A symphony, perhaps?
The brush strokes of keys,
painting words on a lit canvas.