AWAKE

I heard the saxophone wail
Alone into the silence of the night
And I thought that perhaps
It was the loneliest sound in the world;
And the chimes, they rang
And I sang along, a little
For the oboe well-played
And rich its sighs;
For the piano, when forte
And apassionato, with wild hair,
And the timbre there, the color,
The rosy cheeks of a newborn overtone.

And still, that saxophone sang
And mourned the rain
And that which dies;
Like emotion sung
By choirs wrought from glass
Displayed and known, like old friends.
I felt the warm drip-drop of amber
From the sitar strings
And couldn't sleep,
Not with it pounding in my veins,
And in those fitful dreams I cried,
Wait, love, wait just a little more,
And arpeggiate, love, did you hear it?
And the saxophone hummed a melody
To the tune of the harp
Like a chorus of angels
All silver and brass
And rendered me vulnerable,
Vulnerable,
and elated.

And still the saxophone sings,
And still I think it is
The most beautiful sound in the world.