Thursday, August 24, 2006


When I was freckled faced and young
I stood still on a corner of a red brick road
watching in faint outlines the shape
of leaves reaching for endless sky
brown speckled branches thick with heavy, green.
I listened to every hiss and swish of wind,
the low whimper of a stray wild dog.
Waiting, I stared up at an open window,
like an audience waiting for the rise
of a thick, red velvet curtain.
Slowly, a wave of notes danced through
open window over four parked automobiles
and into ears. A twirl of notes danced down
empty foyer, down stone, key steps,
out the brown oak door into the soft light of evening.
I listened crouched next to paraffin light,
this sun of mine waltzing.
I cocked my head back and forth
drinking in every sweep of sound.
It was piano music, rich, sweet hopscotch
language, a black and white ivory board,
the magical sound of Mr. Bach.



J.M said...

did this actually happen when you were young?

Anonymous said...

I love it. I can't quite put my finger on the exact part...perhaps it is the whole feel of the thing.

In any case, Beautiful.

I look forward to when your blog has new material.

~Female from planet Earth

ragingplanetfire said...

jm something like this happened, I also remember the different places that I heard music and singing through open windows and through the streets.

Of course my poem is a little more romanticised.

And female 4rm planet earth thanks for looking