THE MISSING OEUVRE HAS BEEN FOUND
Contemplation led me to my organ
My heart was then ill at ease
I began to brood over my situation
My fingers unconsciously drifting over the keys
I thought of the girl in the daylight
Dazzled by her voice and her smile
My heart flew and fluttered as my music did so
Sadly, that joy was only a while
Her lilting voice, my lilting song
An answer, elucidation
Notes weaved into a tapestry of fervor
She is in my exaltation
When she looks over her shoulder, his arms are open there
Ready to catch her, should she faint his way
I could not deny, he was a dashing young thing
But who would I hate, should she stray?
Frailty, you are an unsullied girl
Clay newly unearthed from the ground
Not even I can decode who you are
Do you follow your sight or your sound?
If music burned with the passion of its composer
Then let my music be damned to hell
Prudent silence, be mine, whilst he be sublime
As I rot in my opulent cell
I stewed as the music burned through my veins
Anger, deceit, in a damnable ruse
A lightning surge of pain thrust me into thoughts I deeply buried
Yes, he's an object of lust, but of whose?
I do not know unerringly what I just played
Or what dreams have left my essence so whet
How dare the man with auburn locks and doe eyes
Inspire my most passionate composition yet?