Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Wednesday, August 12, 2009: A Simple Portrait

His knuckles had never been the same
Since he touched the piano.

But he moved away from home, and didn’t
Own a piano, nor did his friends.

In his sleep, his fingers sometimes fluttered gently,
Releasing scales and rehearsing.
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2 comments

  1. La Belette RougeAugust 12, 2009 at 7:44 PM

    "Releasing scales"!!! That is so good!!!


    p.s. I wanted to ask you a question about my home series. I can't find your email. Would you email me. I am at la belette rouge at g mail . com. Just get rid of all of the spaces.;-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. AnonymousAugust 13, 2009 at 12:48 AM

    There is something very poetic even about thinking about a pianist's hands, if you ask me. This poem is beautiful.

    ReplyDelete

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