Frederic Chopin Thinking About Sand
Picking Me Up at the Station at the End of a Long Week
He promises as we walk to the car
that the CD is “coming up
on Chopin.”
He says this because he knows I like
the familiar–
And I do like Chopin,
yes, because I’ve heard him many times before,
but more because
the music flows,
and when you are in a dry place–no,
when you are in a place that may be dry or wet
but you yourself are a desert,
and there comes this music that sounds
like walking on water,
waltzing on water,
weeping while walking or waltzing on water,
wanting while walking or waltzing
on water,
music which wells,
the wanting (sometimes)
fulfilled–
you (if you are me)
simply wade into
the swim.
Yes, please, let in
the Chopin.
***************************
A belated poem for Sanaa’s prompt on Real Toads to write something just taking in the atmosphere. The pic is an old watercolor of mine of Chopin thinking of Sand (as in Georges).
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