Piano Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

For Lucy W. Young

There is a piano always weeping
In the corner of my dream,
Poem, reverie, piano grand
Grandiloquent filling my consciousness
With song, dappling transcriptions from memory,
On Tiny gardens,
Joy, the wistfulness that comes
When we were so young
We could not echo locate
The yearning of tender buds on trees
Nor find in any mirror held up to dazzle light
The apricot orchards there, lost clouds
And the skies are milky and I can't return
Trade in my childish things for one crystal beaded
Note, floating, flying from me oh where
To reprieve the sound, heart sound specific resonance
of the piano rippling like
The waters of home, and Heaven and clarity
Would be to return them all again beloved ghosts
Exactly as they were then
As in the fairytale moments when the tide turns
And goodness returns to the lanes
In the days I lived spooning cherry jam on bread
Innocent of the roads that lay ahead
As children are for the most part oh
Thank God for the piano weeping still
Beyond all possible music I have ever loved
In the plum darkness of my grandmother's sunlit studio
With the picture window that
Looked out on the Milky Way.
mary angela douglas 13 may 2024