Polonaise in A-Flat Major, Op. 53
The last gold of evening
lingered
upon the piano keys
after the music
had already ended—
I come back to the old piano
my mother used to play
her etudes and concertos,
the ivory keys
yellowed by time—
suddenly I hear
the ecstatic pounding
of Chopin’s Polonaise
in A-Flat Major—
my mother’s hands
striking the old piano
long after evening
had darkened
D. G. Vachal © 2026
Accompanying image created with AI assistance
Among the Jasmine Blossoms
a key opens
my father’s filing cabinet
locked
for so long —
the second drawer
overflows with my letters:
stamped envelopes
squiggly pen strokes
from when I was a child,
a teenager,
a young woman,
a mother —
every letter quietly kept
as a jewel
when they came to him
from far away —
now that I am near
I hear his laughter
while I walk in the garden
among the jasmine blossoms.
D. G. Vachal ©2026
Image Attribution: Mokkie, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
A Stranger at Sunset
the sky was light mandarin
the first time we met
you, a stranger from far away,
my task to welcome you
to our land
for just a few hours —
you and I
walked to the bus stop
you with your crisp white shirt
long sleeves,
creaseless
I with a topsy-turvy skirt,
mismatched blouse
checkered,
floral,
yellow, pink, and green —
shy and tongue-tied was I
you spoke on through my silence
your footsteps
confident
upon the cobbled streets
while I stumbled on —
you found a place for us to dine,
a table where the light fell soft
upon your face
for the first time
I looked into your eyes
as you looked into mine —
the dusty red bus brought us back
to the same stop
there we said goodbye
your smile lighted the night’s darkness
it was then I knew
I would see you again.
D. G. Vachal ©2025
Image by ELG21 @pixabay
A Cold December Night and the Rain
A cold December night and the rain
pummels the rooftops,
drops colorless pearls
on the kitchen window
my reflection
cloudy on the wet glass,
as icicle fingertips put away
pots and pans where they belong
hidden
until tomorrow’s bidding —
Long ago on a cold December night like this
while the rain pummeled the rooftops,
a porcelain cup broke gently,
delicate Saxon flowers
shattered on the floor
as I knelt to collect the broken pieces,
soft footsteps walked towards the door
and in an eternal moment
the door closed
slowly
like an ebbing tide —
A cold December night and the rain
pummels my heart
and once again
the rain brings me back to a place
of scattered Saxon flowers,
a broken porcelain cup
that once was whole.
D. G. Vachal © 2025
Image by AnNeef @ Pixabay
A Summer Remembrance
at the end of daytime fever
I hear the thunder
rumbling in the distance
a forgotten song from long ago —
is it you, my lost love,
your beloved voice
resonant
in the clouds,
a lament of lavender longing
and the firefly lightnings —
did you come to let me know
infinitely far from the miles of sky
that you remember my smile,
and how life would have been
filled with flowers
if we walked hand in hand
in the summer rain,
just you and I —
now comes the twilight,
the rumbling thunder fades
into a sigh
and I walk in my garden
alone
with this poignant longing
of holding your hand.
D. G. Vachal (c) 2025
Image by Geronimo Giquea @Unsplash
lilies, sparrows and grass 
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