Entrancing as the view is
It's like watching silent movies
Where overly painted faces
Gesticulate with solemn graces
Open to interpretation
Until the words appear
Surrounded by fanciful borders
Innocuously proclaiming
The weather is fine today, m'dear
And you laugh anyway
Because what they just said
Is not how it sounded in your head
Especially because how they are dressed
Lord forgive my misconstruing
a torrid expression so ambiguous
It eclipsed my ubiquitousness
I'm just trying to understand
From the arms that are flying
and the cheeks that are burning
Without the words inferring
If it will be a fine day today
or
If the world has finally stopped turning

I need the words to come first
Before the screen scene
Or else I'll laugh, when I should cry
To be misunderstood feels obscene

Slipping off the luscious ivory 
Tumbling fingers melting to nature's symphony 
A dip here, a hustle there 
The strings bent in their own misery 
But a gentle uprising, still beginning 
Coursing
            Burning
                      Waiting 
The pulsing anger in the soulful sound 
Ebbing away gently to be bound 
By the shackles of self, isolated limitations 
Flowing reflectively in its melodious imitations 
A broken heart looking for solace
 But finding music instead 
Tinkles hopefully
                          Chiming
                                    Turning 
Realizing that it's too soon to be dead...