Hammers on heartstrings, And I wish to tell you of their Sound.
Lo, how each chime rolls Or taps the surface of the air, Each an exultation of depression, Creation.
Eyes sting with salt, wetted with What has been – the foolish enterprise Of my words. These notes, they Scale the patterns of my life. Pure emotion.
Inexpressible.
Hammers on heartstrings, They fill the emptied rooms with Sound.
Lo, how each key sings. Their voice naught in solitude, Yet a celebration of life’s discourse in Union.
Ears ring like a music box. Chopin’s Soul in the spaces beyond time, Touching mine. Our sorrows pastured Green, laying life under the ground, Tough fingerprints.
Hammers on heartstrings, And I wish to tell you of their Sound.
Lo, how they still my jittered soul.
Lo, how I accept the drizzle, The arrival of autumn At my window.