Hearts don’t beat, they sing.
They sing love songs when they think they’ve found their match,
and they compose rustic blues pieces when that match sings a different song.
They sing up-tempo power ballads when they make good on their dreams,
and they rap on rhythmic beats when they crave reinvention or a sense of self.
They croon when they’ve found peace, riding the groove of the big band
as they sing songs of content.
They sing swan songs when the end is near,
and they sing requiems for those who have met their end.
The heart may sing a great many songs
and each is more beautiful than the last.
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