The Pianist, The Piece Poem by Antoine Lavoisier

her soft, light hands,
with elegant affection,
gracefully gift the ivory.
a pause occurs:

she steadies herself,
smoothing those unkept strands
from her flowing brow;
silence... and then

my ears in flutter as the cadence
arises, each glowing note
her savoir faire-
from those eyes spring forth

a teaming passion, melifluous joy!
my énthralled heart is carried away
by the fluid, softening melody...
won't she always play this song for me?

it grows, then wanes, this bounding blend
of genius and of warmth;
the girl behind the dipping notes
has captured all my thoughts.

and then! the piece falls silent,
as still as when it grew-
i wonder if she knows how much
i long to hear her tune.