She can hear it in his songs–a wonderland.
His melodies swirl and bounce, build and refrain.
She wants to sit in his mind for a little while
in appreciation of his beautiful brain.
He is the convergence where Broncho meets John Lennon
with a sweeping, weeping guitar of steel.
Every once in a while, you can hear the funk set in
with syncopation you can actually feel.
Who knew when I looked at those photographs
that your grooves don’t just come from routers.
You build sunrises out of echoed vocals
and your musical scales, star-grabbing ladders.