80 You move your silent fingers on the black and white Keys of my bones to make them sound with your mood -- To make me cry when you are dark, to make me laugh When you are light, to make me whisper with your blue, To make me rustle with your green, to make me drone Low with your gold, to make me sizzle with your red -- In flowing patterns of the tints I did not know, And in the notes I never knew that I could play. You paint your colors on my black and white of keys, Breaking my doors to fill me with your flow of moods. You reach with fingers to the strings below my skin -- Veins of your hues.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems