She Who Plays
within the four corners of the room,
i’d hear her strum and witness doom.
slow and passionate, they say.
yet to me, it sounded sad and gray.
with a fiddle, she’ll play gracefully.
her soft hands upon the bow
shall cover the place with serenity
with this forlorn melody, somehow
quiet and slow, she’ll be on the piano.
and i just know, this is again a song of sorrow.
she’d look up as you play a favorite piece.
the listening audience will be then at ease.
eyes of hers were always closed,
whenever she play any instrument like those.
i wonder if it is to focus to her notes,
or is it to hide agony and pain at most?
xi.iii.xviii
xi.iii.xviii