Forbidden Love 

Dance with me, elegant shadow!
take my warm fingers into your cool palm,
dance with me, dance with me, shadow!
across the moonlit lawn

Dance with me, bright-eyed shadow,
and spin me through the pale light
of the clock-face and star-falls
of the first autumn night

Dance with me, fleet-footed shadow!
Let the music be our guide,
let the notes of the bat-calls keep ringing
as they flit beneath the sky

Star-strewn, it glitters
blackened, and bright

*Okay everybody, I have decided to just go ahead and make this fiction (which it kinda is anyway) even though it's in poem form. Life will be easier this way. Hope you enjoy!*

They sell fruit in the markets, and bread.
Fish, too, and all the usual things.
But then there are some corner booths in the shade.
And they have a lot in jars,
a lot in tightly shut pouches.
A penny for this, a nickel for that... I dig in my pockets every time,
my useless change suddenly full of worth.

Look at the faces of the lonely cliffs
staring out at the sea
they raise their eyes at night
to glimpse the stars

Look at the faces of crumbling boulders
that say, come, and rest on me
they burrow down in moss
and muddy ground

Look at the faces of earnest, brave pebbles
laughing in rushing cold creek
they dance and spin in light
and water smooth

Look at the faces of silvery-cool rocks
resting in the shade of a tree
they look out at the green
and sigh so sweet

Note: I play a keyboard and a pennywhistle, and the latter is what is meant by "six small holes".

Music
Fingers dancing
Slowly or quickly over
Black and white keys
Or six small holes
Notes going back and forth
Telling each other stories
Blending together to make a
Melody of a tale
Sometimes you sing
Adding another dimension
Making your own music
Straight from yourself
A friend listens
Or no one at all
Perhaps your guardian angel hears
And God as well
He created music, after all

Sonatas and binomials
Quadratic Concertos
Scribbled out
handwritten notes
Where's it going?

Beethoven, Bach, Liszt and Brahms
ACT and studying tons
No more guesses, I'm all undone
Where's it going?

Oh Senior year, what's the hurry
I can feel the running time
I swear I'll miss you if you go
running by

Just wait a moment now
just stop and let me see the sky

All my plans and high school dreams
fading into reality
watch it changing
I don't even know
where it's going

It knows where to guide your fingers
when you play without the notes
it draws them toward the keys
and they sound the way you feel
I think it's true it knows.

How quietly it crouches there
makes me think it is a tame bear
but I know it's wild creature,
even though it sings for me.
Its voice is full, and deep, and true
and unfamiliar to few
and even if you know it not
it comes to brush against your heart
And I wonder what it thinks about
when everyone is alseep.

It moves in the soul,
soft but strong,
It has been here
inside all along

The kiss of each note
the touch, light and airy
the touch, just like
the wing of a fairy

So perfect, so good
not seen, yet felt,
Soon I'm caught--
can't be helped

I'm caught by the wonder,
held by the sound,
The magic of music
is here, all around.

Silence.
All is silent.
No sound to break
the solemn ache.
So fingers dare
to take it away.
A string of notes
circles down,
flowing through
first, the crashing bound
of the sea,
relenting to
the complexity
of a secret past.
Rising up
the mystery of
the unknown,
and singing the
lightness of
a spirit.
Pulling the strain of
a tossing vessel
Raging the cry
of clashing metal.
Singing
pink horizons
blowing leaves
running feet