Poems by Blue - 1. The Piano Player

The Piano Player

I see now words betray me still. How can I hope to write
of what stopped me fast mid-step, what caught my pace this day?
How do you talk of beauty without beauty turning trite,
meaningless as a snowflake deep in winter's play?
I did not see his hands move, and so I cannot say
with certainty how carefully his fingers found their place
To weave that bitter tapestry angels could not play,
All this from a stern faced boy; a lion made of lace.
I'd forgotten I loved it, that lithe and limber frame,
could catch mine eyes across crowds, Insane,
I forgot him; turned attendance to easy, fairer game,
I turned off the dreams I had, of dark eyes unafraid.
But that song, played to no one, brought dreams back at once
Only now, it was the way he played that trapped me in my lust.