Lucid Waking

Listening at the Window

Silhouette by the window;
two bodies joined in one.
Music from the open glass—
an unexpected serenade
but instead of the mortal on the ground
singing up to a maiden on a balcony,
she’s up there and I’m down here.
Instead of me singing to her, she’s singing to me.

I feel as if I should serenade her.
Give her praises for what I feel,
but she sees nothing but the music on the page
and I’d feel a fool if I called out towards the window
hoping no one else heard.

A cold blast of wind and she appears at the window,
A short shout of her name, a wave, and a smile;
She looks down—recognition—joy fills her face
The greeting’s returned but she closes the window
breaking the space with a sounding tap.

That girl by the window
staring at a music stand
giving music that feeling
I wish she’d give me.

Author’s Note on Post 337: The premise was just some musings that I had in the practice room today. I know when I walk past the music building I can hear people loud and clear if the window was open and I thought: what if someone was actually listening to me?I tried to make this one happy–I really did!–but it ended up being sad, anyway. I comfort myself in imagining that this poor boy gets the girl in the end. Sorry it’s just been poems, but I have no time to invest in a longer prose piece.

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