Falling Whims

I guess there is still a part of me

who wants to caress the piano

like a lover's cheek

without awakening them

with the touch of a fallen feather

God forbid if he would sneeze

But that whim of a whimsical sense

is replaced by my desire to feel the music

to see the vibrations in the air

to hear the tea tray crash to the ground

In a musical fashion

Such are the dreams of a fallen musician