forever it seemed
the opening sonata
had played its familiar notes
somewhere imbedded
within my psyche
haunting and dark
each note struck deep
and riveted my core
closing my eyes
I can see him there
composing
lost within the
“quasi una fantasia”*
agonys’ passion of
dreams out of reach
shaped his left hand
and hope uplifted
in a gentled touch as
he loved her from his right
his hands dueled
emotions while his
heart bled and wept
he twisted upon his bench
feeling then a playfulness
in which to seduce her
the notes quicker ascended
knowing she would pant
at the arrival
he thought of her tenderness
and the soft woman-ness
he desired her to caress his
rough rogue existence
with his fingertips delicately placed
he twinkled envisioning her giggle
and swoon adoration with her eyes
and soft flesh
he lilted upon notes into a dream
then quickly descended
as he realized she was not to be
forbidden by society, her parents
and his lack of nobility
his was an artist haunted by the muse
that gripped his heart and soul
he wrote notes upon notes
as if they were sacred offerings
to no avail the gods were without mercy
and suffering was so close to home
he wallowed in its cold darkness
knowing he had composed brilliant masterpieces
to exorcise the anguish and pain
yet it returned time after time
and he refrained
with the haunting melody
“almost a fantasy”*
you could see the tears gather
and blinked away
as his hands continued to write the notes