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(Dear Marius) Show You How I Play

Poetry By: Ousma

This poem is about the first time I heard Michael play. He was so eager to show me... and I was eager to hear too, but I was thinking in the back of my mind what I would have to say to make him feel good, even if he sucked. In the end, I couldn't even speak. Mikey, you blew me off my feet, and the story remains the same for all the times I heard you play.

Tonight I will fall asleep to your senada. Thank god for the internet and its video-posting abilities. I'm glad not all of your music disappeared in that damn fire.

This is number 11, I believe. How many will there be when I finish Dear Marius? I don't know. I always think I'm done, and then I write another.

I love you to the moon and back, Marius.

Submitted:Jul 10, 2011    Reads: 55    Comments: 7    Likes: 3   

Come, I want to show you

I follow, we sit

A smile on your lips

Eyes full of light

I see your passion

Before you even start to play

Come, I want to show you

To me you say

A deep breath,

And your fingers set free

The first notes, begging for life

Starting soft, your fingers dance

I am a bystander

Of this musical romance

And I can't avert my stare

Your fingers, they fly

With such love, skill, and care

Come, I want to show you

I had no idea

Of what I was about to witness

This stunning dance

Of your fingers and the white keys

Nimble, darting like a spider

Yet gentle as a summer rain

The music reflects its soft patter

Filling the air, my ears

I am hearing for the first time

I had no idea

That I'd been deaf my whole life

Following the music, you sway

Eyes closed, your mind drifting away

The song crescendos

And I can't see your fingers

And unintelligible blur

My eyes sting with phantom tears

On the edge of my sit

My heart pounds

I can hardly breathe

Thunderstruck by your creation

That you wanted me to hear

Softly, you finish your song

Your soul returns to your body

As your fingers slow

Carefully carrying the music to a close

I stare at my feet

Clinging to the memory

As I regulate my heartbeat

The last note sighs and disappears

Echoing and bittersweet

You turn to me

Eager for my input

But I am mute,

Reveling in my new ability to hear

All I can do is hug you

Come, I want to show you

Show you how I play

From then on I asked you every day

Show me, show me how you play

Come, I want to show you

Show you how I play

Not a day goes by, a single day

Without my heart's wish to hear you play.


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