I dreamt that you asked me to write you a story. So I did.
And in exchange, you wrote me a song.
Then I wrote you another story. And you wrote me more songs.
Because to me, you are all the songs and all the stories.
To say you have a page in my book doesn’t seem adequate. Sometimes it feels like you are the book—you know what I mean?
Of course you do. Because if ever there was someone who understands “what I mean”, it’s you.
You are a trumpet…and the bass…and the piano and the guitar.
And I am the drums and the ukelele…and the piano…and the guitar.
We are the singers and the dancers.
You are the ocean waves carrying me. And you are the wind reminding me to breathe.
You’re rapped and rhymed verses, and I am the melody.
We are the harmony.
You’re my life raft. You are my anchor…my constant.
You are the kid holding onto the string and I am the kite.
*goes great with this.