Lucy’s voice lifts me;
Soaring above the staves, above the semibreves.
Over glistening melismas,
As blue melodies pulsate beneath our feet.
gifting me these chromatic blessings
A priestess, distributing the symphonic Eucharist.
O lilting Prometheus, you
Have stolen the music of gods
And gifted the melody to lowly man.
And the twelve tones are yours, my love.
Yours to mould and to caress;
As you leap from one octave to the next,
In dazzling musical bathos.
And I watch
As music becomes itself in you;
Bound by the spell of Lucy’s voice.