Pianists Hands

Where is the beauty ?
On this spit of land
I hear the ocean’s roar
Watch the wind lift
spuma from the breaking waves

The cloud filled sky
bright with light
and shades of white-blue-gray
and orange
as this light is filtered

I am blind to it all
my eyes have gone missing
I struggle to right my unsteady

No heart beats
in this chest
No soul burns there

I search for a hand
The hand

Where is this beauty ?
Where is this hand ?
Spinning off axis
I tumble into space

Where will this end ?
Having lost my past
Searching for my future

Where is she ?
This beauty
her hand
I know I have her love

Where is her caress
Her touch
Her pianist-fingers

I reach out for her

I find her pain
I feel her tears
I touch her fear

Come to me my love
We are halves
Together we make


10 September, 2012


About teserak1

I am Noman
Gallery | This entry was posted in Now, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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