ADAGIO

the music tiptoes through the room
careful not to wake the sleeping

photographs of the dead
their lives trapped behind glass

amongst vast fields of wallpaper violets
stopping to caress the singular beauty

of the rose dreaming
in its chipped vase

of the garden where it was born
curtains led by a breeze

into their dance gazing upon the green
that unfurls about the house

the music wounded now by a tear
that grows upon her cheek note by note

a woman staring into space
the cat asleep upon her toes

the music retreating back into the mahogany cabinet
curling itself into its circle

a whirlpool of black shellac

the music lost in the silence
only its breathing audible now

in the runoff groove
the needle returning to its proper place

with a click the last light
stealing across the lawn