Imagine yourself playing the part.
The melody in a slow tempo
touching the white bones in mine.
The blank spaces glide
filling the staves into octaves
where rhythms of silence
are aching to be heard.
The approaching train
in locomotion slowly halting
to a rest and the muse
steps out in a sudden hush.
Whose inspiration reminds me
of the autumn breeze
that shifts its weight
among the rustling of leaves.
The sounds in the pavement,
and the trickling of the rain
drops of minims, crochets,
semibreves and quavers
into unfamiliar serenade
awakening the restless
in the night’s peaceful embers.
I remember the beating pulse,
the sharp pause counterpointing
the pace and the careful movement
of that forgotten harmony
smoothly entering my soul.
When all love was just a dream
and tonight I hear applause
thundering under my own skin.
Solitude Amidst the Maddening Crowd
