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for at night they had things to say
the goldfinches were there, and the lemon tree
and the old woman with the warts:
and I was there, a child
and I touched the piano keys
as they walked—
but not too loudly,
for at night they had things to say.
the three of them;
and I watched them cover the goldfinches at night
with flour sacks:
"so they can sleep, my dear."
and I played the piano quietly
one note at a time
with the goldfinches under their sacks.
and there were always pepper trees.
pepper trees brushing the roof like rain
and hanging outside the windows
like green rain,
and they talked, the three of them
sitting in a warm night's semi-circle.
and the keys were black and white
and sounded to my fingers.
like the locked-in magic
of a waiting, grown-up world;
and now they're gone, the three of them
and I am old:
pirate feet have trod
the clean-thatched floors
of my soul,
and the goldfinches sing no more.
© Frank Silvanski
and the old woman with the warts:
and I was there, a child
and I touched the piano keys
as they walked—
but not too loudly,
for at night they had things to say.
the three of them;
and I watched them cover the goldfinches at night
with flour sacks:
"so they can sleep, my dear."
and I played the piano quietly
one note at a time
with the goldfinches under their sacks.
and there were always pepper trees.
pepper trees brushing the roof like rain
and hanging outside the windows
like green rain,
and they talked, the three of them
sitting in a warm night's semi-circle.
and the keys were black and white
and sounded to my fingers.
like the locked-in magic
of a waiting, grown-up world;
and now they're gone, the three of them
and I am old:
pirate feet have trod
the clean-thatched floors
of my soul,
and the goldfinches sing no more.
© Frank Silvanski
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