Corinne Bailey Rae Poem by Kewayne Wadley

Those lips,
Oh those soft beautiful lips.
The melodies they sing.
The fantasies they leave behind,
an echoing ripple from a boat fading into the horizon.
Fingers grace the sea,
Drops from the ripples cradle the clouds.
As the sun meets the moon, in a passing glance.
I yearn to be closer to experience
The sounds they make.
Those soft pink lips uttering songs to the sky.
Who or what would I have to be to catch a passing
glance from you.
Would I have to be a microphone.
Watching you stare off into the crowd as your soft crinkly hair
lays perfectly against your head.
Paraplegic to the touch of your breath
each word sung from your lips.
Would you mind if I stared into your eyes
and fantasized that I was the one that you sung to.
With each ripple, growing deeper in depth.
An interlude to the perfect curves that indent the sides of your
cheeks. The biggest smile lips could grant.
A butterfly flown in complete darkness.
Miraculous.
Observing the sea, from a far.
Imagining the taste of the constant splashing waves.
Would I have to be the notepad you keep close to you.
To keep the thoughts that just won't stay in your head.
Without needing to fight for your attention,
Would you except me for just that.
A note pad.
A luminous light floating though the air,
A golden butterfly, seen flying through the night.
The melodies they hum.
Your lips.
As the sun meets the moon, in a passing glance.
how I yearn to be closer to hear
The sounds they make.