Aubade

You compose that sonata as you are eager to analyze the exquisite crush of some ideas. I listen to you while admiring 'The Sky' painted with scissors by Henri Matisse. Those white birds flying look like moving hieroglyphs. So different seems to be this new Sunday dawn in our old secreting sun! The woven web of some golden rays forms intricate, catching spirals of life. Your piano composition is about a few rising dreams and falling angels, while this unique rocking time is slowly whitening your hair.On a chair looking like those that are found in the cut and curl salons, there are forgotten two Mizutani shears. Our salon is not destined for cut and curl, but for the meeting between many artists only. The house has spiral stairs leading to an exit to the Lonely Street. We don't celebrate the Sundays, but I think 'tis good to celebrate them, because, on these days, people think to give their best to The Lord. The notes of your sonata are as those vanishing steps, that I hear, sometimes, in our corridor, when the silence stops to guard the door of your secret room. 'Tis Sunday again, but it's raining with tears from the eyes of the clouds. Nonetheless, the artists don't want to miss listening to you play the piano. The music is like a daybreak, or like an undiscovered hieroglyph. Poem by Marieta Maglas Variant That sonata comes from your desire to explore the exquisite crush of certain musical ideas. I am staring at 'The Sky, ' a masterpiece painted with scissors by Henri Matisse, while I listen to you. Those soaring white birds have the appearance of moving hieroglyphics. It seems so different this Sunday dawn in our ancient sunlight of concealment! A few golden rays weave a web to create new complex and eye-catching life spirals. Dreams rising and angels falling is the theme of your piano piece. This unusual rocking time is gradually whitening your hair. Two Mizutani shears appear to have been forgotten on a chair similar to those found in cut and curl shops. Never for haircuts and curls, our salon is intended to be a gathering place for numerous artists. The house has spiral stairs that go down to Lonely Street. Sundays are not consequential in our household, but I think they should be since they serve as a reminder to folks to spend a lot of time in prayer and contemplation with the Lord. One door, that one guarding your safe room, moves, shattering the silence. Now and then, I hear your sonata's notes vanishing in the air like all the footsteps in our hallway. It's a new Sunday, but old tears fall from the clouds' eyes. Still, the critics don't want to miss hearing you perform on the piano. A sense of dawn and some ancient hieroglyphs shine in the music's lyrics. To wake up next to you makes me happy. Poem by Marieta Maglas