seeing the piano covered, a shame he paused parking his suitcase and peeling back the cloth shell a few hours layover the airport hustle and bustle hummed sitting down to stroke the keys, all save one stopped to hear she walked by, her mind already wrapped within his music abrupty turning fifty feet down the hall, spotting a bench nearer him she walked purposefully their eyes met, souls crashing and he played for her each note hitting precisely upon her heart electrifying every nerve in her body caressing her soul when he finished the world came back into view she felt the weight of their story, upon her shoulders time passed, unknowingly and when she cared to look up, sending her gaze to him she found only an empty piano, covered and still
Hi Trisha, I liked this poem the first time around. The emptyness is obvious here, but also so is the uncertainty of wanting the gap filled or not.
ReplyDeleteHi Martin,
ReplyDeleteGood eye ... it's nice to know who's reading! ... and thank you for the comments. Your encouraging words keep me writing!
Oh do please keep writing, Trisha. A lot of poetry (especially competition winners, etc) I just can't read or understand, it's like looking at an abstract painting and have to be told what is in the artist's mind and what the painting is about.
ReplyDeleteWhereas your poetry is ... is poetry, you seem to be able to put your words down on paper and create the most honest pictures that I truly understand and empathise with.
Martin.