Death And Music

Random fantasy involving piano

 

The candles flickering in my chamber
Mark the sickbed where I waver,
Whither I must wait for favour
From providence or heavens grace
to lift this fever which I labour.

 

Alas; but, heaven sends instead
Your grace presenting to my bed,
A dampened cloth for a weary head
as soft piano notes ring out
from the soulful way your fingers led.

 

They lead you to piano; seated,
Quietly my moans entreated
"Fill what sickness has depleted!"
Play of smiles and summer days
and all that I have since retreated.

 

The melodies you lay for me
Are of a distant memory,
Like whispers from some ethereal tree;
A lofty breeze I cannot touch
In a world that I no longer see.

 

Yet none of this, your skilled illusion,
clears my mind of its pollution,
To linger here in dark seclusion
Only turns a cheery song
to mournful tones in slow conclusion.

 

My days and weeks are a weakened daze
As all the memories sway and haze
In a head that moves to the hand that lays
Out ivory tears on fingertips that
Tear aloud in violent ways.

 

For playing at your instrument
With spirit broken, body bent,
My deathly pallor's evident
In a slow and final requiem;
An aria of dull lament.

 

And through it all a storm comes breaking,
Thunder clamors, body shaking,
Is this rain? Or mind now faking
The pattered drops that sound of notes
To a head just barely waking?

 

Tired am I, this ache inside,
From death, no longer try to hide,
My precious final moments tied
To the magic in your music
From that sweet piano by my side.