RAINDROP PRELUDE

Cut off by the glass
from the crowd,
behind the windowpane.

Downbeat, pianissimo.

On the ivory keys
drop by drop...
note by note...

The music,
claiming the soul its home,
seeping through
into my night’s dome,
tearing down the walls
around the heart.

I face what I cannot say.

The accent, on awakening,
the art, in crescendo.
The rain coming down in tears
for me,
contrapuntal.

With the precision of a scalpel,
D Sharp,
The sound engulfing
the soul
to heal deep
wounds.

Filling the hole,
soothing the hungry vulture
who feeds on the cadavers
of its past.

At last,
the finale...splashing
in the puddles
yet, getting lost
in the waves, I descend
trying to see
into my heart,
if you’re still
hiding there,
for old loves age
in the old heart
with time and tempo.