From my table, I watch his elegant hands
smoothly play the keys.
His eyes are closed dreaming of the meaning
of this song he shares.
I wonder, alone, where the music takes him.
It must be a beautiful and special place.
I try to enter his mind to see but I know
where I picture is nothing
Compared to where he is.
His dark bangs hang over his shadowed face
too perfectly.
My eyes never blink nor look away from him.
To only me he is more than a handsome man
sitting on stage
Opening his strongest dream to an audience.
I see an angel surrounded by a heavenly glow
who cries for this place he sees
as he desperately waits for a lost love to
take him in.
I see a sensitive soul reaching out at
nights through endless tears and pain;
Screams that crack the darkness enveloping
him in his solitary bedroom;
An empty home that matches his heart.
The music ends as the crowd applauds.
Only I know not to applaud while watching
the broken man slowly walk away
from the piano settled in more darkness.
I know that, though, many people sat
listening he felt alone.
He felt as I did.
His song is my song, too.