A Song For You

You make sunflowers open and close when you walk by them,
the Moon asked if you could work overtime,
when it took a sick day, the Sun called to see, if you could sub for it,

You held up your hands, a dust storm stopped,
The winds of the Sahel were at peace for a day,
when you waved your arms, the locks on the
Panama and Suez Canals only allowed you to enter them

I followed the Big Dipper to get to your voice,
the North Star to your house,
listened to my dreams, read you letters and stepped with caution

In the morning let me make designs on your back,
draw henna spheres and circles on your legs,
kiss the palms of your hands, rub your fingers,
put Vaseline on your knees, elbows, and eyebrows,
aloe vera juice on your wounds,
a silver dollar on your navel,
cocoa butter on your heels

I know your hands are hard from working,
I’ll hold them any day, any night,
before the mist in the morning,
as you step on stage, and build images

Looking in your eyes, gave me the rhythms for guitar chords,
the notes on a piano to make your paint bubble,
a bass guitar lead, beats and breaks on percussion,
refrains for us to hum all-day

I have written this song for you,
played all the parts,
taped it, mixed it, and made it the pace of your steps

The time signals are the beats of your heart,
refrain your laughter, and background lyrics the way you smile,
I have felt your pulse,
Baby, this song is for you

Melvin E. Lewis’s poetry has appeared in  Afro-Hispanic Review, The Black Scholar, Gargoyle, Pen International, and Wasafiri.  He writes radio programs and conducts interviews as a Special Correspondent for Beasley Broadcast Radio Stations.  Lewis is a Certified Emergency Manager and has published articles on emergency preparedness in the Fayetteville (NC) Observer and Port-of-Harlem.