The Pianist

A haunting requiem sweeps softly across a lonely sea
Reminiscent of a music box that entrances the wind and waves
In its final funeral suite.
Lost beneath the pounding surf
The springs break
And two hearts break as well…
He with hair darker then an approaching storm,
Inspires such an image,
With hands that caress so gently the ivory keys of a piano.
And watch the way that his eyes follow
With a tender concentration,
As though his soul alone could produce
Such a sorrowful and lonely sound.
His wild hair is the hair of a seaman, a pirate of old
Casting distant shadows over his angular face.
The expressive, thoughtful face of a poet,
A begrudging dreamer,
Who’s dark eyes are blank,
His every feeling being translated into music.
It is his heart that turns the key of the music box
In that distant sea,
And it is his heart that inspires the bitter sweet quality of his music,
Because it is his heart that is lost.
It is his heart that is broken.

-Lauren Hatch
June 6, 2007

(Wrote this about a gorgeous bass violin player and gosh he was gorgeous. He looked like Jess from Gilmore girls with pirate hair. SIGH.)