To find 
look to 
have hold
to keep 
treasure and 
to live 
life love 

Harpsichord starts
quietly pointed 
a few
twinkling notes 
curious to 
the ear
like sugar 
to tongue 
and then 
the flute
whose notes
float like 
the fragrance 
of perfume 
trails after 
catching attention 
long gone
and the 
violas alto
whispering beckoning 
like a 
wink caught 
by surprise 
this is 
the sound 
of attraction 

And enter 
the violins 
the weeping 
strings and 
now the 
cello with 
its moaning
despair and 
finally the 
plush bass
whose throaty
growling sighs 
and now
you know 
the sound 
of heartbreak 

It was Paris
near the Seine 
when one stone 
caught by shoe
kicked and fell 
creating a splash
kerplunk and ripple
it was then 
that I knew 
how sadly unimportant 
yet quietly grand
the little things 
are in life 
and that I
was just like 
that little stone 

To whittle 
is to
reduce what 
was once 
grand into
something useful 
to carve
is to 
shape what 
was once 
majestic into 
something unique 
to create 
is to
make new 
something that 
wasn’t before 
these are
the tools 
of those 
who dream