My Little Scherzo N. Short Work, Often Rythmic, Usually Happy Poem by Bruce Schwab

I love you, sotto voce, she whispers my name.
I whisper, tremolo, I love you the same.
Having not heard this concerto for too many years
The depth of the music has brought me to tears.

She asks of the the warm tears, pianissimo, on her face.
I can't answer, appasionatta, held in her embrace.
The movemwnt engulfs us within the ecstasy of sound,
the world's in the moment, all we need has been found.

The music continues, andante, cantabile, our song.
Glissando, brilliante, vibrante, forte' loud and strong.
I look long, deep into her eyes, she looks deep, long back into mine.
I find satisfaction there that I've never known,
I hope she can find something of the same in my own.

Now diminuendo, the coda bonds us forever
as her lips find mine, legato, smooth as a feather.
Again I look long, deep into her eyes and am surprised
when she smiles and whispers gently, 'what about a reprise? '