Red

The Wolf grinned 
Sheepishly. The
Better he trailed
Off. Red loved her
Granny. She did
Not know what the
Wolf had done to
Her granny. He was
Not her granny, even
In disguise. He was
Wearing her glasses.
That was comical.
Red was worried
But she had to laugh
The Wolf did not
Have a sense of
Humor. Red thought
About all the times
She and her granny
Joked and laughed.
Red said You look
Ridiculous to the
Wolf. He grinned
Or was that his way
Of wincing. All the
Better, he repeated
Red missed her
Granny. The Wolf
Shrugged. He was
Just being who he
Was, Red thought,
And she sighed

How it unfolds

Me, but also all of us

The rest is just rearranging
The notes of our songs, or
The furniture in our rooms,
The clothes we wear or the
Jackets we discard. It's all
As expected, as it was set
Down, jotted once, so we
Can play upon a template
To make it our own, ours
To make it the music that 
Is the backdrop of our life

You

Rhythm runs your heart,
Beats out the time, taps
Down through your toes.
Its syncopation rides in
Every movement, you're
Smooth, gliding with a
Grace that's memorable
The counterpoint sweeps
Everyone off their feet

Us, you plus me

The rearrangement is the
Arrangement, the timing
Is right on the beat, the
Counterpoint moves so
Effortlessly, melodiously
You feel each note move
Through your heart, I can
Rewrite a chapter, change
A word or two so its all in
Rhythm, a drumbeat that
We recognize as ours alone