Girl at Piano

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Tue, 27 Jan 2015
  • 1606 reads
4 comments
 
I'd  watch her through my window
of an evening – the girl across the street
who played piano.  Silent, to me, her music;
 
no key – no C sharp, no A flat minor,
even so, I heard it like one senses the stutter
of air from a butterfly’s wings.
 
The glissando of her hair glancing
her shoulders, where a capriccio of a dress
gave misterioso a whole new meaning,
 
as she tripped the light fantastic in three-four time,
in and out the penumbra – dolcissimo,
the ripple of her fingers.
 
There was no need for diminuendo
or crescendo...arpeggio, staccato or rubato, 
all superfluous, for she had alchemy in her touch...
 
in her rise, and fall; could transport a tune 
across the pavement, road and trees – lay it 
on my shoulders - soft as a silken,
Paisley shawl.
 
Such is the music of the soul
especially tonight, lit only by a book,
a bible on the table.  Thoughts of my father...
some seventy years since....
 
a boy, a bear with a button-eye...a station...
a train, bound for nowhere;
in the spaces of hope, light grows,
silence grows louder
 
and death's dibaolical shadow looms
as will bloom the magnolia - regardless
in the renaissance of tomorrow's spring.
Certificate PG
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual

Comments

Submitted by Bee on

So clever to use those musical terms as description - all worked together to form perfect pictures and responses to sight and imagined sound. This is such a beautiful poem - I loved every word.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thank you Bee, so very much.

Tina

 

Submitted by blighters rock on

Just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, sweet music is in the hands of the player. You never know, maybe she'll be the next Amy Winehouse, but I loved this piece on how innocent music has the power to remove us from worry. 

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

blighter's - your words are beautiful.  Thank you for them.

Tina