Bethel (Jacob and Japonica)

The piano lulls its feint percussion.
Its soul is a harp heart wired with strings
where wooden rods and muffled hammers tap.

Her fingers feather the iv’ry and dark
Für Elise, she sits before her lover
touching the enterprise of layered keys

As sound percolates through summer’s drawn lawns
where genteel ladies cup afternoon teas
I lay above in the wreck of a room

Drowsing still wet and warm from her passion
I count the sweet fading drift of her notes
As angels might count the cotton soft clouds

Peering from the brim of the here after
Waiting for Jacob’s foot on the ladder
As, in turn, I wait for Japonica.

Bethel (Jacob and Japonica)

Chris1249

Joined May 2010

  • Artist
    Notes
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