Of thoughts traveling from a secret hideaway
from deep within to the skies on display,
then back down through the rainbow dust,
collecting colors from an outward thrust,
colors come dressed in their noonday attire
of rainbow residue and clouds on fire,
fueling the heart of the man with the horn,
and warming his blood as the melodies form.
Melodies shoot out into the poetic air
soaked in rainbow tears with balladic flair
on stallions galloping with the easy winds
to the edge of night as the song begins,
to the chameleon sun and its westward setting,
marriage of the day and the night begetting,
of colors inherited from the chasms of love
and the wind and the rain and the sky up above.
Beauty enters the music with its silky fingers
and settles in its soul as the sweetness lingers
for a minute or an hour from an eternal wish,
staying for a time or a moment too brisk.
Oh sweet melody of colors in thy warming
that cling to the spirit from rainbows forming,
stay with me and guide my steps
as I travel down to its quixotic depths;
oh such sweet music as thou art.