NOCTURN

Where is the Chopin in my reveries?
Notes tripping smoothly into calm?
Where is the Moonlight, pristine, blue,
bright, light, dripping down through heaven
between striated, silent ribs of clouds
shining on my soul when sorrow
slams into my heart, when pain no longer
hides its night face and darkness takes its toll
with sleeplessness. Where is the Chopin then?
Tell me. Explain. Again. Tomorrow maybe
I’ll try to love the world because I know
that once there was a Chopin. But sometimes
his breath seems shallow and his heart too deep
buried far away.