Moonlight Sonata

I can picture his silhouette

seated at the massive instrument

against the moon through open glass doors

as he overlooked the night,

The crimson drapes floating solemnly overhead

beckoning the autumn leaves

quietly in on the pale moonlight.

Suddenly I see panic in his eyes

as urgency springs from his fingers.

Overlooking a moonlit world

he orchestrated his soul

and matched a bitter autumn night

note-for-note. Then I felt what he felt

when he looked into her eyes.

Moonlight, they called it.

—Dedicated to Beethoven