Melody

Patter, patter rain; it's blue and white outside,
dripping colours on the wall. Fingerprints.
Lingering at the door, you drop a guitar pick
on the second step. It gleams as it falls,
and you leave it there.

It's raining rainbows, tiny shooting stars. Why go
now, when you've come so far? Play a tune,
dye some music. Record a secret. Anything.
The traffic light stays yellow.

Then a vision comes to you. You see a room with golden walls.
Rich carpets. Giant cushions on the floor. And there in the centre
is the grand piano, new and unused. You run a finger
across the flawless surface; its glamour keeps you there.
And as you start to play, years of memories are running,
running back to you. The flow floods the air. You close your eyes.
Ping! A note plays wrong. Blinking, you find yourself
outside a window, blinded by candlelight.

The air is so still - it paralyzes you. In the midst,
you are guided by a mysterious purple light.
When you awaken, you realize they are keys
of remedy. And you follow a stranger's footsteps home.

But you're not alone, no; in your mind
music overwhelms you. And in your mind,
you search for your guitar pick (the one you left
on my doorstep), and finger every chord.

The moonbeam isn't a fragment of your imagination.
With the melody accompanying you,
you bike 'til midnight
until you've reached home.

My first request!
Inspired by Carol Ann Duffy.