I don’t have an extremely energetic beat,

I don’t have a particularly deep bass note.

My song is pleasant,

it is sweet

and complex.

My rhythm is not the lyricist

or the part of the bold trombone.

My baseline is not the passion of the ever bouncing drums,

but maybe the thumping of the dancers foot.

My shouts are not the shrill of James Brown

or the enigma of Tom Waits.

I am not the electric guitar.

I am not the snare drum.

I am the secret whistle,

the subtle piano dancer.

Fluttering on top of the notes,

you might just miss me.

I am the melody

with a swinging heart.