The Starlit Sea

“Pa, I had a dream,” said she
over the morning cup of tea.
“I was holding your hand
As we walked along the starlit sea,
For I knew that at night
Your eyes could not see.
A big white surf rolled in; I shouted
‘Pa, hold on to me!’
when the sands collapsed under my feet.
I woke up, startled, just as
The hissing water beat a retreat
Back to the starlit sea.”


Frederic in the Rain

–  listening to Chopin’s Prelude c# Opus 45 in a tropical downpour

The rain  surges in a fierce drive

to drown  the music, only making

it  more intimate and alive.

The prelude  murmurs   with pleasure,

with chords that speak of  longing, and

leaps into the  brightest of  sunlight,

only to fall  into a deep dive.

Oh   Frederic, dear friend of mine,

what did the rains do in Majorca

that leaves  me high like a heady wine?

And why the eternal enigma

that is your  Opus Forty-five?