Wednesday, June 20, 2012

The Fiddler's Midnight Sonata

Tell me you miss me,
Make me believe it,
that's the only way --
It will ever be true.

Silence is broken.

Into the moonlight,
cuts the bow,
poised and pulled
across the strings.

He plays her
a fiddle, master
technique, weaving
her blindness,
into his own vision.

But she catches glints,
glimpses, in the glow
of the night, even
the darkness
cannot hold out.

But she twirls
breathlessly baited,
anticipated, into his
every move, plotted,
planned, perfected.

The difference is
she already knows,
his dance, his song
what waits in the dark
but she chooses it
and chooses not
to reveal herself.

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