Memory of Dreams

The piano danced quietly at the end of the paintings
on her fingertips
yet I was enriched by distraction
like the echo of red on her lips
I watched her shoulder blades bare
long and moving
graceful and romantic
One dark mole at the base of the right shoulder
just above the low backed dress line
she smiled at her own playing
this could move mountains
of such men as I
I know
I thought about all of the others too
and felt small among them
yet she played on
The perfume of sounds I scented
came out of the open lid of the piano
they graced her bare shoulders
and I thought of other nights
the memories of dreams
the scent of her love passed by me
and wafted on into the darkness
forgotten until just now
Though just as she played the last
of the beautiful lines
she turned to me and spoke softly
I love playing for you
and she smiled again
She placed one hand over her heart
and turned her legs
from the bench
her knees not quite touching
her feet apart
high heels shining and her toes
pointing to each other
as if in blaming each other
reaching out her other hand to me
and then not another sound
for awhile
- Whispers among the balsams…. - May 8, 2023
- Do not stand at my grave ………. - April 19, 2023
- An evening cast among the stars - March 10, 2023

Very romantic piece, Ed. I can almost hear the piano music. Well done.
So rich with wonderful imagery and romantic phrasing to capture any heart who reads. A great poem masterfully rendered Ed, and pleasing to the soul. Excellent work my friend.
This was a pleasure to read Ed. You captured the moment and romantic feeling perfectly.
Lovely poem Ed. You have captured images so vivid and real. I enjoyed reading this and thank you so much for sharing
Thank you Anjana , that means a lot !
John my friend , Thank you !
Thank you Tony – I appreciate that .
Phyllis, you are so kind ! And such a hard worker !
Beautiful story Ed, or dream, whatever! lol The older I get the harder it is to hold onto my dreams long enough to remember them though I want to. Is that just me or does it have to do with age? I wonder.
Oh Jackie , our dreams , imaginations , our fantasies are perhaps all we can truly have that are ours alone – You write so well of yours and always have , many of us envy that you know ! .