For years of old, I listened to you play
concertos, nocturnes, all were our mundane.
But now, to fill the silence of each day,
recordings of those times are my refrain.
This piece is one I loved, in moody C,
yet there, within its frantic harmonies,
I hear a noisy whoosh—what could that be?
An errant sound, perhaps a distant wheeze?
The climax of the piece approaches soon,
and with the stretch still grows the grating scratch.
Instead of you, to air my ears attune—
Your breath? I gasp, and then my own I catch.
Indeed, that huff—it’s just your heavy sigh.
In music passed, your life will always lie.
Valerie Tauro is a writer and musician with a passion for interdisciplinary storytelling. She loves listening to film scores, playing classical piano, and over-analyzing all the stories she consumes. When she’s not stewing in a project, she’s starting yet another crochet or knit work, making a new playlist, or gazing out the window.
Featured image by Micheile Henderson on Unsplash.
