I remember this one scene
like a dream it was, yet vivid and real
as a warm and rich oil painting.
It was before the show
just past 8
and the place was packed.
The lights were on and
the lacquered wood of the stage
glowed a warm yellow
deep and ripples shining.
I was standing by the orchestra pit
looking down at him, into his eyes
my mouth said something about notes
on the page and music
but really I was looking into his eyes.
In those stage lights they were lit up from the inside, like
brilliant flowers
and the sea swelled green in their depths
soft blue sky above, I could smell it all
and the undulating tide
beautiful and mine.
There I stood over him
looking down into those eyes into that lovely face
lowered as he was by the orchestra pit
scarce in reach of my hand
cello below him in the darkness.
He smiled his tentative smile
and talked in his deep reaching voice
and returned my gaze.
and I was so happy