On a cloudy morning on the beach

On a cloudy morning on the beach,

the sound of the waves and the salt air

serve as indelicate reminders

of the main attraction.

And when she, in congress with the winds,

steals a glance of my sallow frame,

I arch my back and raise my chin,

as meeting the lips of a lover.

Departing in short order,

a smile dances across my face.

I will meet my benefactor again

as the gods will.

Genre

I'm learning that choosing a genre for a song before laying down words is going to be a necessary evil. To this point, I've had some fantastic concepts and couplets, but my fondness for the ideas has impeded progress - I'm afraid to make a decision that will corrupt that magic.

There comes a time when everything needs to be classified in one way or another, and it's hard - because once you put a label on something, you need to start making decisions. Binding decisions. Nothing really exists until anyone can identify what it is, and while that shadow may be romantic, it's not really real until it has a shape - it's nothing you can hold onto and define yourself by.

There's a song in my heart, but I'm not quite sure how it goes.