I am deaf yet music is my passion,
for the way each raindrop hits through ground
splashing it's very sound, the way
the the girl holds the saxophone in her hand,
playing something, I think, is sad
in a bluesy tune that I, too, can understand-
is something that I can feel.
For the way the traffic goes, when rubber tires
burn the cement and splash in puddles,
for the way children run and scream,
as one woman struggles to reach
for her red, drifting umbrella.
Yet all my attention is the little girl
blowing the saxophone
on the painted canvas.