Music of Childhood

… for my mother

Music of  Childhood

Play for me the melodies
of childhood
as the apricot glow turns
to voiles of lavender
and crickets chirp
in the coolness
of twilight —

come sit with me
on this piano bench.

Play not for the crowd
but for me alone,
in A-flat major —

let me watch your fingers
the ivory keys,
let my heart explode
with pounding octaves,
climb crescendos,
dance with staccatos —

Tell me how long time ago
before bedtime stories
and childhood dreams,
you dipped my spirit
in the romance of Liebestraum,
the sweetness of nocturnes,
of etudes and preludes —

Now, as your fingers tend
the autumn flowers,
come sit with me,
play the melodies,
the music
of my soul
once again.

© 2012  by D. G. Vachal

*** Photograph: Heart and Music by Dragan Todorovic 

Pink Porcelain Cups

Pink Porcelain Cups

I saw your face
devoid of air:
a crumpled raisin,
blue eyes squinting
at the light.

Your first utterance a memory
of joy,
for in the silence of my sorrow,
piercing cries,
abbreviated gasps for air
broke into sobs of song
filling empty cupboards
of my hungry heart.

I see your comely face
after years have formed
from still-life brushstrokes —
you speak,
I understand
as I did then
when you mumbled words
so long ago.

Showers cascade softly
upon delicate petals,
thirsty leaves;
You pour
our favorite tea
into pink porcelain cups.

by  D. G. Vachal © 2012

* photograph : Pink Painting by TC Davis @Flickr Commons