The Pianist

How can the pianist delicately serenade me into a deeper sleep?
The notes remind me of her, swimming in my brain,
Her sound dives the depth of me, exploding in the deep,
Memory gently penetrating the depth of melody,
She calms my curiosity and clashing jealousy,
The room explodes into applause as the notes climb reluctantly into their vehicle of conception,
The superficial audience draws its hands together- jarring me from my gentle repose,
She turns to me with a grin spreading across her plane,
Her hands revert and I watch her fingers dance gracefully on the ivory
I dream we are the fingers,
Rising and skipping across the board,
Until the ballad slows to a delicate finish,
The sleek hands of the musician revert,
My ceaseless worries are drowned by the amazing harmony of her lips,
Neurons conncected- its her kiss