Heaven’s chill clouds hide blazing stellar light.
Winter wet with fresh white flakes falls tonight.
A morose man maunders at his baby grand,
Keys awaiting the touch of bony hands.
A sunlit melody from two souls’ springs
With a gentle whisper and soft caress
Given to the girl with the sunlit face
And warm kisses in her heartfelt embrace.
From a fine feather-soft andante touch
Notes gently rise as fresh as morning mist
Lifting slowly to start a languid day
With willows leafing and robins stirring.
A spritely turn becomes a lilting waltz
Swirling with the girl with the sunlit face
Softly sounding to a wistful beat of
Brilliant butterflies bobbing in a breeze.
A strong counterpointed arpeggio weave,
Fluttering a fabric of fierce feelings,
Teases out phrases lit with grace note sparks,
Capturing paired passion’s ecstatic breath.
Romantic, but bright as the noonday sun,
A mellow moderato middle paints
Her sweet sunlit face coursing through a crowd.
His eager cells shake as when aspens quake.
Hope surges in allegro con brio
In a haze of hot glances, sighs, and moans
Chords balance lyric clef ivory keys.
Fingers rhapsodize love into glory.
Passion’s racing cadenza thrills the keys
Notes merge in one accord coupling the twain.
Chords soar in a Hallelujah chorus
A heaven-bound helix of harmony
Grimly gasping at what he cannot reach
And share with the girl with the sunlit face.
A scherzo turns a torrent of torment
Until its crescendo of chords stops cold
As a car slamming a brick wall headlong,
Leaving its radio playing, faintly,
In a steady staticky staccato
Like water dripping on a rusty roof.
His coda is a black-clad dirge wrapped tight
Around a slow, dim sunlit melody.
Musical memories flood him with pain.
Stoically, he plays on without restrain.
The music of muscles and synapsed nerves
Bleed arias from marrow of his bones
Oozing the sorrow from his entwined soul
Mated to the girl with the sunlit face.
The tempo slows, his heart a carapace
Of life with the girl with the sunlit face.
Feelings bereft, nothing left to devote,
His coda stumbles to its final note.
Copyright © David Drowley | Year Posted 2020
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