quatorzain 431

it was a summer of moonlight and love
she and me in a park by a river
beethoven, her favorite, his sonata
playing every time we made love, rocking
gently to that melody somehow tinged
with a melancholy only moonlight
can touch — her tears gentle, silent streaming
like the moonlight through our open window

how could love sustain such nostalgia, such
sad-sweet strains of piano and such slight
sustenance as argent haloed memory
shadows in silver lining . . . and she moves
like tides caught in my gravity only to
wash out again into time and water . . .

David M Pitchford
24 Nov 2011


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