It was something
Something like this
Something not not complete
A fragment
A fragment on the edge
On the edge of time
She was playing. Her fingers, the tips of her
fingers were molten gold
The sun turning red Orange was drifting down
toward the swelling olive writhed Wine
darkening seas
The window was ajar Her fingers folded the
notes in parcels of beauty that fled to the
widow and out to the sea
I had my left hand on the other piano’s keys.We
had been playing together but I’d stopped as he
came into the room
He was … was he going to be jealous She looked
She looked for a moment at me In the
shadow of the windows wall his drum
set sat but he didn’t play classical music like
She and me
I took the look in her eyes and I turned them on
Him My voice said O Henry we were thinking
of thee How this piece needs a drum roll like
Oars wooden oars stroking thru the wine dark sea
Do you think Do you think You could do that
For We
And although her fingers still molten in the rays of
the departing sun stopped for an eternity
balanced here at the edge of the world her
eyes pointed at him And he muttered I’ll try I’ll
syncopate I’ll feel your key And my hands
dropped back to the piano and began gently to play
And then I heard her tune turn on its heel
And listen for the oars of his timbered drum
And by all the Gods and Goddesses
He played like a shimmer of lace
Like the spindrift that spume and froths
At the edge of the wave
As Aphrodite appears out of the seas grave
And we played together us three
At the edge of the
World
To the wine dark
Sea