Unheard Music

Unheard Music (Mozart) The fingers on my left hand move all by themselves like they are playing piano that produces music I cannot hear. I watch my fingers play but it makes no sense so I try to stop by holding them still with my right hand’s fingers. So I sit like a vicar contemplating the Sunday sermon, a mild one who hasn’t an arsenal of fire and brimstone speeches, but would rather talk about the coming spring. My wife brings me a glass of water and a pill, fingers rest, but I would liked to have heard the music they played, for all I know it could have been music brought to me in a dream by Mozart who died so young that he can’t believe it yet, and tries trough, me to play his latest masterpiece.